Shake, Rattle, and Roll

Of late, I've been telling scripture stories to the children as I lay them down to bed. Because Goose has been having nightmares recently and scripture stories almost always have a violent element to them, I try to edit the stories to make them a little more G-rated. Occasionally, I make mistakes and include something I probably shouldn't have. Goose always locks in on it. A couple of nights ago I mentioned earthquakes in the Americas accompanying the death of Christ.

She immediately interrupted me with a barrage of questions. What is a earthquake? Where do they happen? Why do they happen? What does a fault line look like? Why do the plates rub against each other?

Goose has a hyper-analytical mind. She fires question after question at me all day, everyday. I try to be exact and matter-of-fact in my answers, trying to avoid the "because that's the way it is" answer but eventually she wears me down and I can't come up with any more explanations. I've thought about adopting the approach instituted by Calvin's dad from the famous comic strip: making up ridiculous answers in an attempt to avoid further interrogation, but 1) I can't bear to lie to my kids (I even have trouble with the Santa Claus deal) and 2) it wouldn't work with her anyway. She would still press until I answered with "because" or "I don't know". Sometimes I think this is her entire objective: to she how long it takes to wear me down.

But, I digress. Relatively speaking, the questions regarding earthquakes ended fairly early that night. But, I learned the next night they had made a significant impression. We were talking about something else completely and she started asking me about some strange subject: "sorry lines".

After a series of my own questions I realized "sorry lines" were "fault lines". (A cute insight into a 4-yr old's word association, in my opinion.) Goose wanted to know all about earthquakes. More specifically, she wanted to know all about the danger and destruction of earthquakes.

Uh-oh, my gut said. We've just barely gotten to the point where she can be alone in a dark room. What have I done? I assured her that we lived in an area where earthquakes really didn't happen and that she shouldn't worry about it, etc. She wasn't interested in my reassurances. She still wanted to know all about the dangers. I told her in the morning I'd show her some movies of earthquakes on the computer.

Still anxious about inciting a new irrational fear in my daughter, I set about screening youtube videos. I chose the most mild, non-threatening, earthquake videos I could find. A bridge (without cars or people) shaking visibly. Water in a pool rocking from side to side. And of course the dry films from 8th grade earth science with the maps of tectonic plates and fault lines. We wanted to stay as far away as possible from Lois Lane out of gas with a cracking San Andreas faultline in the rearview mirror.

Goose was unimpressed with my selection. "But, where are the things falling on people? I want to see the dangerous ones." Sigh...

I brought out a few of the more violent ones; the kind of videos one would expect to find on youtube. The messy, dramatic ones. I watched Goose carefully while we watched people hysterically run from falling objects. No fear crossed her brow, in fact, they were exactly what she wanted and she has since shown no signs of burgeoning anxiety - just more cold, analytical questions.

Still unsure about her emotional state, I asked her why she was asking me so many questions about earthquakes. She looked at me like I was the dumbest person in existence and said "Because I want to learn about earthquakes." My incredulity continued, but I humored her and tried patiently answer questions all day. We watched more videos, we talked, and we looked at maps.

Tonight as we were snuggling in for bed, we affectionately rubbed our noses together, a sign of love we've shared since her infancy. This time, however, it's meaning changed. "HEY MOM! " Goose exclaimed. "Our noses are like an earthquake!" Wow. She got it all. I laughed. We rubbed our noses again, and this time followed the gesture by shaking violently under her covers. We laughed until tears filled our eyes: she with the satisfaction of new-found knowledge and I with the rediscovery of wonder.