Telling the kids

NY Times front page (09/12/01)

 

 

 

A friend recently posted on her Facebook page a question regarding how to introduce the topic of 9/11 with younger children.

On September 11, 2001, my kids were ages 10, 8 and 5. We didn't have lots of time to figure out what to say and how to say it. We had to wing it.

My older daughter was in 5th grade. They were told in school some generalities of what had happened - the oldest and only grade of students in that school to be told.

My younger daughter (grade 3) and my son (starting kindergarden), had started at an out-of-town magnet school just a few weeks earlier. They were not told anything about what had happened, but knew something was amiss: the school - big on technology - had banned kids from being exposed to TV or radio that day. And recess was REALLY long.

My husband picked the kids up from after school care at the regular time (about 5:30 PM). It never crossed our minds to pick them up early that day, and I still don't understand why one would do so. On the short ride home, he told all the kids a bit more about what had happened. Planes in NYC - where we'd been the previous Christmas season to see the Radio City show. The Pentagon. The field in Shanksville, PA. No, it wasn't near your grandparents house in Pittsburgh. Yes, you can call them when we get home.

I arrived home around 7:30 PM - an early day compared to some Red Crossers, mainly due to the pneumonia. My husband and I decided to let the kids watch the towers fall while I sat by to answer questions.

Big mistake.

The girls were stunned into silence. My son stood on a chair and yelled "My Daddy's gonna get those bad men." Though I was more worried about the girls' reaction, over the coming days and weeks, they processed what they saw better than their brother. He became more and more insecure. He never before used a blanket or pacifier for comfort. After 9/11, he started collecting Beanie Babies he called "The Goochie Family." And Beanie kitties. The Goochie Family and the kitties lived in a box that was their home, with a mom and dad.

His obsession with the Goochie Family started to fade around springtime, only to be resurrected when the media started stirring the pot about 6 weeks before the first anniversary. The Goochies were back, but only for about a couple months.

A week after the 9/11 attacks, I listened to WCBS-AM Radio out of NYC. The week seemed to have gone by so quickly.  Driving home, I considered the human perception of the passage of time, and wondered if the next month and year and decade would seem to pass as quickly.

Seemingly, the decade passed quickly. In reality, ten years passed in the same amount of time as 10 years has always passes: 5,250,000 minutes (math made easy by Jonathan Larson).

I still haven't cried. Is that bad?