I love my husband to death, but since the pandemic started, he’s turned into a total news junkie. It's basically on all day, every day. I also enjoy being up to date on current events and issues, so it hasn’t been much of a problem for me. However, this weekend, things got just a teensy bit more complicated.
“Mom.” My 5-year-old, Alyssa, came up behind me on the couch and put her arms around my neck. “Moooom, can I have an M&M cookie?”
I tore my eyes away from Anderson Cooper and turned to her. “Huh? Oh, yeah, no problem.”
“Mom. Mom.”
“What, honey?” Why hadn’t she gone downstairs to the cookie jar?
“Mom, why do I keep seeing the world be on fire?”
She pointed to the screen. It was filled with the horrid orange glow of the most recent bout of deadly California wildfires.
“Uhm… just a second, honey.” I turned to my husband, who was still engrossed in the report. “Hey, can we change it?”
“I want to see the story that’s after this,” he replied.
I took that as my exit cue and brought my daughter to the kitchen for some juice.
“The fire is orange,” she said as she sipped her drink. “And yesterday, I saw on the TV that the sky is like orange juice somewhere. But not here.”
In that moment, I had a decision to make
I could distract her, not answer the question, maybe just play some Barbies or read a book. Or, I could actually try to explain things to her. Honestly, my first instinct was to redirect her. But, as I looked at my beautiful girl, staring into her curious eyes, I just couldn’t bring myself to dodge this.
We talked about wildfires, and how they’re usually caused by lightning, but sometimes by people. My daughter loves science, so she was very interested, but the next thing I knew, I’d talked myself into a bit of a spot. I couldn’t keep answering her questions without bringing up climate change. As she talked about the animals and people losing their homes, the cold stone of guilt and dread lodged itself in my gut.
I chickened out. I gave her a cookie and put on Frozen 2 so I could go to my office and take a minute. Because I didn’t know what to say.
How the hell do you tell your child that the planet is burning, the oceans rising, the plants and animals dying, the resources drying up? How do you talk to your kindergartener about a slow-moving but seemingly inevitable crisis? How do you explain that your generation, and your parents’ generation, put us in this situation?
The first step is to acknowledge the elephant in the room
Talking to other adults about it, and not shying away from news reports, is an important way to dip your toes in the water. Even if it feels like “one more thing” or an extra stressor, the truth is important, even if you take it in small doses.
Then, when your child has questions, or you feel that you’re ready to broach the subject, it’s vital to have a plan for what you’re going to say. NPR has a great article with a whole little script to frame climate change in a way that kids can understand.
It’s so tempting to throw up our hands and say, “Well, this is irreversible, so why even bother?” It’s easy to just be grateful that we as Old Millenials had a chance at a childhood where the earth wasn’t in such a severe state of disaster, or to take our parenting one day at a time and push off the uncomfortable truths until “the day after tomorrow” (see what I did there? A little humor can help with this situation, too). But we owe our children more than that. So, now that you’ve talked to your child about climate change, what’s next?
For me, it’s all about action
I want to get my daughter involved, whether she accompanies me to protests, helps pick up litter in the park, or helps turn the water-wasting lawn of the local church into a community garden. We are so blessed to have young leaders like Greta Thunberg to show kids how they can make their voices heard.
In the end, it’s about parents removing their heads from the sand and getting involved. Then, all you have to do is take your children along for the ride. Now, when it’s their time, they’ll have the tools to step in and take over the fight.
