I’m fairly certain I’m not alone in often having trouble getting my second grader to tell me about his day.  Usually, it goes something like this:

Me: “So, how was your day?”

Second Grader: “Fine.”

Me: “What did you do?”

SG: “Um… nothing.”

Me: “NOTHING?  You did nothing at school?”

SG: “Well, not nothing, but… I don’t remember.”

Me: “You don’t remember anything?  You just spent seven hours at school and you don’t remember anything you did?”

SG: “No.”

Me: “Well, what did you do in math?”

SG: “Some math problems.”

Me: “What kind of problems?”

SG: “Um… I don’t remember.”

And it goes on.

Mostly, I think he’s just tired from his day and doesn’t want to have to put in the effort to remember.  So I’ve had to figure out a way to make him want to tell about his day, which, in our house, will inevitably involve a game.  If it’s a game, usually the second grader is in.

There are plenty of games/books/suggestions out there for facilitating dinner conversation with kids, but often they involve asking questions like, “If you could be any animal, what would you be?”  And those are fun questions and certainly valuable, but really, I just want to know what the hell he did when he was away from me that day.  So we’ve implemented several different dinner table rituals that the kids now love, and the end result is we get to learn a little more about what happens at school.

I hope these games are as helpful for you as they have been for us!

• Highs and Lows.  This is a pretty traditional one, but it works well.  Everyone goes around the table and tells one high and one low from the day—that is, one thing that was great and one thing that was kind of a bummer.  I only require that it be something that happened at school.  If it happens to be a day when they get to play on the computer or on Wii, I don’t want to get “I bought a new puffle on Club Penguin!” or “I fell in the lava on Super Mario Brothers!”
• Two Truths and a Lie.  This is our absolute favorite.  It’s a modified version of the ice breaker game, where you make three declarations—two of them are true, and one of them is a lie. Then, your listeners have to guess which one is the lie.  Usually, we get something like this:

“I played soccer at recess;

I got all my spelling words right on the spell check;

Reading was really long today.”

Then, everyone gets to guess which one of these isn’t true.  The best part is that then you have topics to discuss and things to question.  ”Oh, reading wasn’t really long today?  Was it short?  Why, did you have an assembly to go to?  Who else played soccer?”  It’s also easier to get answers from their day at school, since they have to give you events that you don’t know about in order to trick you with their lie.

• Do Over.  Here you choose one thing during your day to do over.  It can be a super fun thing, so you’d want to relive it, or it can be something that didn’t go very well that you’d want to change.  You then explain what was so fun that you’d want it to happen again, or what you’d do differently if you had the chance.
• Daily Event Charades.  Pretty much what it sounds like, here you pantomime one thing that you did or that happened to you during the day.  You can do this at dinner, but it’s even more fun if you do it once you leave the table, since then you can get some crazy pantomimes. Everyone guesses what is being acted out, and then you have something to ask more questions about.

Do you have any tried and true ways to get your kids talking?  Share them in the comments!

Tonight, RD Husband was getting the four year old ready for bed.

Four Year Old: “I love jet packs.”

RDH: “Me, too!  I’d love to have a jet pack.”

FYO: “When I grow up, I’m going to be a jet pack designer.  I’m going to make jet packs.”

RDH: “That is so cool.  Will you make one for me?”

The four year old considers.

FYO: “Well, you might be dead by then.”

Wah, wah, wah…

I mentioned in my last post that the four year old has recently been struggling with the idea of mortality.  It’s kind of heartbreaking, and yet just a part of life, I suppose.  The other day, we were talking about health and longevity and such over a meal.  It was just me and the kids; I was in the kitchen and preoccupied with getting dinner on the table while we were all chatting.

We had been talking about aging, and the four year old was getting the concept that older people and animals die sooner than younger ones, for the most part.  He was discussing things with me and his seven-year-old brother, and the following exchange happened:

Four Year Old: “My brother is going to die before me, then.”

Me: “Well, you guys are close in age; you’ll probably live about the same amount of time.”

Four Year Old: “No, because he’s older than me.”

Me: “Yes, he’s a little older than you, but when you get to be grown ups, he won’t seem that much older.  So he might not die before you.  But Mommy and Daddy will probably die before you do.”

I didn’t really think much of my comment when I said it.  He was silent for a moment, clearly thinking really hard about this, and then he said, quite confused, actually:

“Mommy?  I kind of feel like my brain wants to cry.”

And OH MY GOD, I nearly melted to the floor in a puddle of love and pain and despair.  My brain nearly starting crying on the spot.  He was looking at me like, why do I feel like I’m going to cry? Truly baffled.

It was an amazing moment, though; one of those little parenting events that will probably stay with you for the rest of your life.  Clearly, he was trying to think rationally about death, and suddenly emotion overcame him and he couldn’t figure it out.  He couldn’t grasp exactly why he felt like he wanted to cry at that moment.  It was like watching his mind grow in real time.

I came over and sat with him, gave him a hug, and I told him, “Oh, honey, that’s ok!  Do you know why your brain wants to cry?  It’s just because you are feeling kind of sad that Mommy and Daddy will die someday.  And that’s ok.  It’s ok to feel sad, but we won’t die for a long, long time.  Not until after you are grown up, and you have your own kids, and then Mommy and Daddy will be the grandma and grandpa!”

We talked then a little about when they grow up, who will become what, like Mommy and Daddy being the grandparents and how his kids would be cousins with his brother’s kids, yadda yadda. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps I hadn’t handled it quite right.  Is there a right way to handle these things?  I don’t know.

I kept thinking afterwards that I shouldn’t have mentioned that we would die before he did.  Was that wrong?  Is he too young?  Did I scar him for life?  It just kind of came out, but maybe it was too much truth for such a little guy.

What do you think?  What would you have done?  When should one start to broach the subject of death with a child who has no experience of it?

I’d love to know your thoughts in the comments!