June, 2011

Also appearing in Om Times, June, 2011

How to tell Little Red Riding Hood we killed the
Big Bad Wolf

Explaining bin Ladin to curious five-year-old is no easy task for Mom
by Karen M. Rider

“What’s a bin Laden, Mommy?” My 5-year-old daughter asked with the same curiosity she would have approached any of a thousand other new encounters with the world around her.

I was driving at the time. Her timing could not have been worse.

My first thought was how do I explain evil to a child? In this case, the explanation of one concept was not going to be served by describing it in relation to its opposite, goodness. It must have seemed to her like an eternity passed, or maybe she thought I was ignoring her question (was
I?); she persisted.

“Did you hear me, Mama? What’s a bin Laden?”

I did not want to answer too quickly. From her tone, and the fact that her little sister was napping in the car seat next to her, there was no chance of escaping my older daughter’s inquisition. In what I can only now assume was an avoidance tactic, I asked my daughter where did she hear
about “a bin Laden.”

“They talk about it on the radio. And on Daddy’s news show. So, what is it?”

Bear with me while I share the rest of the conversation:

“Bin Laden was a person,” I told her. “A few years ago — before you were born — this man did a very bad thing. Now, he is dead.”

By this time we had pulled into our driveway. Still, her questions came at me like a round of gunfire.

“What bad thing did he do?” she asked. “How did he die?”

“He made a plan to send airplanes crashing into the big buildings in New York City and a few other cities,” I said. “The buildings in NYC were called the World Trade Center.”

“Were there people in the buildings or on the airplanes?” she asked.

“Yes,” I responded. “Thousands of people.”

“Did those people die?” she asked.

“Yes, they died,” I told her.

“That’s sad,” she said. “Why did he kill those people?”

I knew it would come, the dreaded why. Her gaze was intent upon me. Her attention hung on my every word. I was in dangerous territory. I proceeded with extreme caution. I didn’t want her to only know of Osama bin Laden the terrorist who orchestrated an attack on America and her people. There had to be a lesson here. Didn’t there?

“It’s hard to understand, even for a grown-up like me, sweetie,” I said. “But there are some people in the world who don’t have goodness in their hearts. When they don’t agree with the way things are going in the world, they try to change them to the way they think it should be."

"Sometimes, instead of talking about differences or problems, some people get very upset and they act very badly. Mr. bin Laden was part of a group of men who wanted the rest of the world to see and do things their way. They thought the best way to get people to understand what they wanted
was to hurt them in a really big way.”

“Like when my little sister hits me because she doesn’t understand she can’t have my things in my room?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Kind of like that. Mommy and Daddy teach you and your sister to make better choices to work out problems instead of hitting or throwing things, right?”

“Yea,” she said. “But she doesn’t always listen. But why did that man want to kill all those people?”

I had no idea what wisdom was about to pass over my lips but I thank the stars in heaven for what I did say.

"I don’t know why he thought that but I do know one thing for sure: After that terrible thing happened, the people in our world came together to help one another. Instead of getting afraid, which is one thing I think Mr. bin Laden wanted, for us to become scared of living in the world, we were
brave,” I said.

“So, while that man did a very bad thing, and it is sad so many people died, we learned no one could take away our freedom to think and to act in really good and loving ways toward other people. You know to help our friends and family and neighbors here in Cromwell and other parts of the
big world we live in.”

She stared out the window for a moment. I asked if she was ready to get out of the car.

“One more thing, Mommy,” she said. “Who killed the bin Laden man?”

The heavens intervened once more as my daughter spotted a butterfly dancing across the stone walkway. She dashed from the car, leaving with, “Be right back, Mom.”

I was relieved that I did not have to explain the only answer that I could have given to her last question: “We did.”

My daughter hasn’t brought up bin Laden since that week in early May. Consequently, I don’t know if anything I said made any sense to my little girl. And I don’t know exactly what I will say to her if and when she does ask me why our country sent in Mystery S.E.A.L. Team 6 to kill him.

After all, there isn’t a child development book in the world that deals with how to tell Little Red Riding Hood the Big Bad Wolf is dead. And, maybe those are the terms my husband and I will have to use; the conversation with my daughter going something like this:

“Sometimes people in real life act like the monsters in fairy tales. And sometimes, in real life, we have to send in heroes and warriors — men and women — to help get the monster under control. But when the monsters keep fighting, because there is so much evil in their hearts, the good guys and gals have to get really tough. They may try to catch the person and put them in jail for a long time. But if that person keeps trying to hurt others, then the heroes have to stop him and that may mean hurting this other person the way the hunter kills the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.”

Maybe my daughter asking these questions is not so much about what I teach her. Maybe the lesson is for me. Maybe, for all of us whose students, children and grandchildren will undoubtedly ask these questions again and again throughout their development, the lesson is to look at what is going on in the world through the eyes of a child. How absurd it must all seem to them.

From my little corner of the world in Cromwell, I know only this to be true: Until all of us who inhabit this planet collectively move beyond tolerance and come to an understanding and acceptance of one another, no answer will ever, truly, be good enough.