Infant Philosophy

'What am I?' asks my son.
'A boy,' I reply, not listening.
'What's a boy?'
'A boy is someone with a ... A boy is human who is male.'
'What's a yewmanooizmale?'
My daughter is pondering separate cosmic mysteries on the sofa.
'Why does cat poo smell?'

These untiring interrogations exasperate me. They distract me from the serious business of the White Stuff catalogue or the Met Office weather bulletin. They also unnerve me, for their infant logic exposes the vastness of my own unknowingness. 'Why did Jesus have to die?' asks my daughter and I discover that, despite sharing a house with a theological library, I flounder. 'Why is water wet?' 'Why don't we have three arms?' 'Why doesn't my Lego tip over when Earth turns round?' I don't know and I don't know and I don't know.

Lately the questions have become more focused and just as foxing. 'What is eight times 13,' asks the nine-year-old, hunched over her maths homework. 'Who was Henry VIII's fourth wife?' 'Why do you never know the answer to anything I ask you?'

I wonder then why it takes children to reveal the holes in my intellect. In adult gatherings  I can maintain a semblance of worldly wisdom as we debate how to remove ketchup stains from lambswool and whether Jason Donovan should have won Strictly Come Dancing. At which point the answer blinds me. The weight of years and insomnia have innured most of us to life's philosophical questions. My brain buzzes with shopping lists and school dates. I lack the mental space and energy to ponder why the wind is windy or what is the essence of Boy.

I am sobered by this. By the time the children are flown and I have the leisure of my own unimpeded thoughts, my mind will have shrunk too small to recapture cosmic curiosity.

I resolve to revise Tudors and times tables and to look up Existentialism on Wikipedia. And next time my son asks me why cats don't need hair cuts, I shall rejoice in his quest for enlightenment, even though my answer will be 'Don't know'.

Comments

  1. ThresholdMum11 January 2012 at 10:28

    Love this. DO hope you're writing a book - I'd buy it. Catrin

    ReplyDelete
  2. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron11 January 2012 at 10:33

    Oh, thank you Catrin. Like everyone, I feel I have a book in me, but don't know how to get it out! Blog's on Kindle though!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Rachel Selby11 January 2012 at 12:03

    My sister said that every time her boys asked a question she sort of knew the answer but the real crux of it was always just outside her range of knowledge - every single time. And we are not stupid or uneducated people.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron11 January 2012 at 12:30

    Yes, Mrs Midlife, that's how I feel. Like yesterday when my daughter asked what logic meant. Logically, I knew the answer, but I couldn't find the words.

    ReplyDelete
  5. A Little Light Work11 January 2012 at 12:44

    And all the experts where shocked last week when they found that the brain starts to go in the 40s. I already forget what I came upstairs for.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Rachel Ragg11 January 2012 at 14:07

    What a splendid post. I am chortling about the White Stuff catalogue, as I have just shared my lunch with the Boden one (and NO CHILDREN: they have finally gone back to school).

    My son's big question this morning was 'exactly how much do you have to earn to pay fifty per cent income tax?' As this is never likely to affect me, I did not know the answer.

    ReplyDelete
  7. HaggisMummy11 January 2012 at 14:27

    I think you should go proactive. #1 give them the answer and see if they can get the question. #2 share with them the knowledge you *do* possess e.g. "Yes" in Japanese is "hai", Italians think parmesan on pasta/ fish sauce is a crime, 4x13 is 52.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Bibsey Mama11 January 2012 at 18:40

    Oh I do like Mummy Haggis' idea: like Jeopardy for pre-schoolers.

    Keep up the ignorant good work.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Kate11 January 2012 at 20:16

    Such a brilliantly written and, for me, poignant post. My husband was only saying the other day that where had his curiosity and thirst for knowledge that he had as a little boy gone. Perhaps the answer is is that we parents knock it out of them. How sad. Sorry - I did love the post honest!

    ReplyDelete
  10. Sarah11 January 2012 at 20:26

    Great blog post. My boys don't ask questions like that any more (thank goodness) but their homework gets even harder, especially the maths!

    ReplyDelete
  11. northernmum11 January 2012 at 21:56

    hhm why doesnt lego fall over when world turns *heads off to google*

    ReplyDelete
  12. Imprudence12 January 2012 at 11:33

    Here is a small collection of facts imparted by the littler boy (now 6) on the way to school last term: he told me about the flying habits of plated armadillos, that skips were mostly yellow but that he had just seen a green one, asked why squirrels had knuckles (for knocking nuts apparantly), pointed out caterpillar eggs on leaves, then swerved back onto the eating habits of flying armadillos (wood, metal, fish fingers, broccoli and mashed potato, and cliffs since you ask.)

    No problems with facts here: his toy hedgehog knows EVERYTHING apparantly.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron12 January 2012 at 11:35

    I need that child in my house, Imprudence. Send him over!

    ReplyDelete
  14. Imprudence12 January 2012 at 12:11

    You need the boy -- or the hedgehog?

    ReplyDelete
  15. The Last Slayer12 January 2012 at 14:04

    I'm not at that stage with my boys yet but suspect when I am, my stock answer will be "let's look that up shall we?". Sigh. You are not alone when it comes to shrinking brains.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron12 January 2012 at 14:14

    You're a better mother than me. I could never be bothered to look anything up, unless it was the Boden online sale!

    ReplyDelete
  17. Anonymous14 January 2012 at 20:08

    Oh blimey, you're telling me I have to get good at Maths? I thought I'd left those timetables behind for good. And there was me, thinking life with an 18 month old was tricky.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Sarah Miles17 January 2012 at 11:15

    My White Stuff catalogue is in the loo with Boden (the catalogue - not Johnnie) as it is the only place I can sort of guarantee 5 minutes peace.

    I too have had the 'Why did Jesus die?' question and as an RS teacher I am torn between a tirade of theology and Roman politics or settling on 'Because they put him on a cross'.

    My usual tactics are to mumble an answer and swiftly follow it with 'Who'd like a Kitkat?' Distraction is the key......

    ReplyDelete
  19. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron17 January 2012 at 11:19

    I think what my daughter meant was why did God arrange it that Jesus had to die as a scape goat. I was about to open my mouth and offer the usual platitudes when suddenly I saw it in a new light and was silenced. The Kitkat would have been a much better idea!

    ReplyDelete

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