Kids These Days: Some Advice from the Little People

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In my zeal to be old, I often forget how instructive it can be to listen to kids. Sure, they are generally little sociopaths with broken moral compasses–and they smell like hamsters– but they often have excellent ideas about how to live.

Here are some things children have recently taught me:

Don’t Waste Your Time with Dumb Stuff

My niece patiently explained to me that showering is optional. If she can sleep for an extra half hour, she isn’t stepping into a waterflow of any kind. “It just seems pointless,” she told me. She’s not wrong. Personal hygiene is totally the thief of joy. Greasy hair isn’t a crime. “It just likes like gel,” she insisted. She’ll bathe when she “gets to it.” Here’s a kid with priorities.

She also doesn’t muddy her memory with useless details. When I asked her what time she goes to school, she had no idea. It could be eight a.m., it could be seven a.m.,  it could be hamburger. She simply doesn’t know! “I just go in when the bell rings,” she explained (with a fair amount disdain, as if she just had to inform me that rain comes from the sky).

Her ingenious approach to life ensures she doesn’t have a head full of useless knowledge. She uses all that free brain space, she explained, to think about more important things, like whether or not she wants pizza.

Do Take a Reasonable Approach to Problem-Solving

My nephew is only twelve, but he has the common sense of an eighty-year-old. He goes to bed early, does his homework as soon as he gets home from school, disapproves of Tik Tok, and gets to class early to “center” himself.  He’s also a keen pragmatist.

“Would you be willing to eat people?” he recently asked me.

“Why are you asking me that?” I asked. I was suspicious because he was handing me a taco at the same time.

“Just curious. I myself wouldn’t do it.”

“No,” I answered, “I’ll definitely pass on eating people.”

“What if they wanted to be eaten?”

“How would we know that?”

He thought for a moment. “They could tell people. Like sign something that says it’s okay to eat them.” He went to craft a complicated system that was sort of a cross between organ donation and The Hunger Games. Then he left to watch YouTube, satisfied that he’d  essentially solved global hunger and cemetery overcrowding in about twenty minutes.

The whole conversation left me wondering I can’t easily come up with reasonable solutions to even the smallest recurring problems. Yet he has enough reason to create a plan for responsible cannibalism.

Don’t Lie, Even If the Truth Hurts

My ten-year-old niece is pathologically honest. If you give her a gift she doesn’t like, she’ll give you a sour expression, utter a perfunctory thank you, and then give the gift back. I once handed her a picnic basket to hold. She mistakenly thought it was a gift. “No thank you,” she told me. “I prefer not to picnic.” She’s basically a tween Bartleby.

Once you become an adult, you start to rely on little lies to lubricate social situations. It doesn’t take long before you’ve told your coworker that you love his singing, reassured your neighbors that you don’t mind in the least if their cat eats everything in your garden, and donated to your brother-in-law’s multi-level marketing business that sells leggings for goldfish.

Not my niece. She puts it out there. And as a result, you are never in doubt where you stand with her, and she never feels compelled to be someone other than herself. Not long ago, she met her old brother’s new girlfriend. She took one look at the girlfriend, turned to her brother and said, “This will never last. She’s going to dump you.” That’s radical honesty.

Be Better, But Still Be You

I was once asked to give a speech about how to change the world. I agreed to do it, but the truth was that I don’t have a clue how to change the world. I only recently learned how to change the furnace filter. (That’s a lie. I have no idea how to do that either.)

So I asked my friends with kids to advise me. How do you change the world? The kids’ answers were delightful. They advised more love, more smiles, more puppies, more kindness, less bullying, less greed, and less jealously.

They also gave me some bonkers answers that I still think about:

  • “I go under the tables.”
  • “After lunch I take a nap.
  • “If I play in the front room.”
  • “I like lollipops.”
  • “More lions.”
  • “Farting”

What I took from their answers is that we can all agree that kindness and generosity are never bad ways to approach life. At the same time, it’s okay to be you. Get under the table and fart! Take a nap after lunch! Have a lollipop!

Life is hard.  Find joy.

Above all, listen to the kids. They know what’s up.

 

 

 

An Open Letter to Kevin, the Trick-or-Treater

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Dear Kevin:

You came to my door on Halloween, dressed in an unidentifiable costume, and I proffered you candy as requested. We’d never met before, so you might be wondering how I know your name. I know it because your friend or sister yelled, “Kevin!!!” at you several times.

You asked me what my costume was. I was wearing jeans and a sweater. I told you I was dressed as myself. You made a scared face and sarcastically said, “Wow, that’s a scary costume.” I wasn’t offended. You aren’t the first smartass kid I’ve met before. I even laughed a little. Then you grabbed a handful of candy and ran off while your friend/sister yelled at you: “Kevin!!!” and apologized to me for your behavior.

I’m going to do you a solid here, Kev, and give you some advice. I know you are only fourteen, and you probably won’t suck so much in a few years, but right now, you suck pretty hard.

Let me give you some advice from the perspective of someone dressed as myself.

That sad little mustache isn’t doing you any favors.
At first I thought it was part of your costume, and then I realized it was tragic facial hair. That scraggly little line is traumatic for everyone. Just shave it off. It won’t take you long.

You might be too old to trick-or-treat. 
I’m not one of those scrooges who refuses to hand out candy based on age.

But you, Kevin, in spite of your obvious immaturity, should probably sit out Halloween next year. A general rule of thumb, as you’ll find out soon, is that anyone with a mustache must buy his own candy.

If someone offers you candy, don’t grab a handful.
That’s just rude, Kevin. You’re the reason we can’t leave a bowl of candy on the porch and invite people to help themselves. You’re exactly the sort of person the world doesn’t need more of.

Stop making your sister scold you. 
She was clearly younger than you, but already she was playing the role of your mother. Don’t act like a jerk. Let her have some fun without worrying about you and your bad manners.

Being a teen is tough, Kevin, but you’re not making it easier on yourself or anyone around you.

Next year do yourself a favor: Go dressed as the new you (minus the mustache).

In return, I’ll agree to hand out candy to anyone who asks, laugh at anyone’s dumb jokes, and forget what a jerk you were this year.