Friday, June 14, 2013

Dora the hero!




A while back, when my kids began enjoying toddler/young kid programming, Dora and Diego both rose to the top of the list rapidly. Much to my chagrin, I frequently found myself humming the Dora theme song while I made dinner, unaware that I was doing it. It struck me as one of those “You know you’re a mom when… “ moments. My husband jokingly commented that our kids were going to develop a stutter (D-D-D-D-D- Dora) and that we should sue Nickelodeon. It was pretty amusing. 

I heard once that you should always watch what your kids are watching, at least in the beginning. Watch the characters and ask yourself the following question. “Am I content with my child emulating this character?” Given how much children learn from everything they observe, this is definitely wisdom. 

And when I asked myself this very question, in regards to Dora and Diego, the answer was a resounding YES. 

Dora is sweet. She’s loving and honest. She is devoted to her best friend, Boots, and she always speaks nicely to her parents. She loves adventures and uses a map to be sure that she knows where to go. Oh, and she ALWAYS wears a seatbelt for safety. Sure, she under supervised, but I can live with that considering her biggest predator is Swiper the fox, and he’s easy to scare off. Besides, her backpack is always prepped and ready. 

Diego is slightly more adventurous, and significantly less supervised than Dora, but he’s a pretty cool kid. He’s kind to animals and always makes sure that mommy and babies are reunited safely. He’s never aggressive and always respects the space of the animals and people around him. His rescue pack is enviable in its ability to transform. I’d pay good money for one like that. 

The plot, while insanely formulaic, is productive and positive. It’s always about helping or saving something, and all the characters join together to facilitate the success of the character in need. That view on life is not to be taken lightly. Many adults could use a few lessons. 

My kids are not the most physically adventurous kids. This is not shocking as they were late walkers who outnumbered their physically cautious mom (as twins). We started playgrounds on the later side and I have a hard time holding back from saying “be careful” at times when I should simply keep my mouth closed.
Dora and Diego, however, have taught them to harbor less fear. While they used to avoid the high points of swing set towers, they now clamber as high as possible because it provides the best view for Diego (the animal rescuer) to spot the animal in trouble. They slide down the slides to catch said animal, even when that slide is faster than they anticipated the first time. 

Last week, we took the kids on a walk and my son found himself in a position to clamber up a steep (by his standards) hill. My husband was behind him and I was at the top of the hill, so I had a clear view of his face. Or should I say his fear? I called out to him, and when he looked at me I grinned and shouted “Go Diego Go!”  The fear fell from his face. Instantly. He called back to me, “Go Diego Go!” and began to climb with confidence. He made it to the top with no problem and a triumphant grin. 

My daughter enjoys looking at maps, asking where they go.  I suspect that I, in part, have Dora to thank for her increased interest. 

My only slight hesitation with these shows is the nagging worry of gender stereotypes. Dora is much softer while Diego is significantly more rough and tumble. Part of me wonders if this is a wise idea, telling children what “real girl” or “real boy” looks like and how they behave. 

But that’s a battle for another day. And a much larger societal issue. We’ll come back to that later.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

A distinctly different childhood



My husband and I took our children out hiking today, in the local state park. And I do mean local, because it’s 5 minutes away. What a blessing to live so close to nature at its best. The park is relatively big by east coast standards, with multiple entrances. The furthest one, I believe, is more than 20 minutes away.

But I digress. 

The section of the park, closest to our house, hosts a stream and a trail that takes you past a waterfall. The waterfall itself is pretty, and worth the trip, but the stream is by far the best part. After a moderate amount of rain, it flows nicely with a relatively slow current. The rocks are stable enough to walk on safely if you watch your footing and the water isn’t ridiculously cold. Just cold enough to offset the heat of a humid day. Perfection. 

We arrived after lunch and took the kids up the slope to the waterfall. They thought it was cool, but weren’t satisfied. They wanted to keep climbing up, and were undeterred by the need to wade through the water to reach the subsequent section of the trail. So, with 8 wet feet, we continued onward and upward. By my husband’s estimation using the map, we traveled approximately one mile each way and heard little to no complaints. At times the water was waist or chest deep for the kids, either because of their height or because they slipped and fell into the water while walking. They laughed. Yes, you read it correctly. They laughed, reached for an adult hand to get back up and kept on going. 

Words cannot express how proud this made me.

The comedy of the day came when my daughter proclaimed (loudly, as I was more than 100 yards away), that she had to pee and started pulling down her pants. I had explained to her, at the start of the walk, that she couldn’t poop in the water but she could pee. And that she should, if she felt the need. I grinned at the lady next to me, and stated “That’s my girl”. Then I went to help her. It was awesome. We have hopes for her peeing in the woods. 

This was not my childhood. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not criticizing my parents, in any way, shape or form. My parents did a wonderful job exposing me to a wonderful and adventurous world. They took my brother and I traveling all over the world and exposed us to art, music and culture. They sent us to camps that focused on our passions and paid for my dance and my brother’s sports. As a parent, I now know just how expensive these hobbies are and how hard my parents had to work to make sure we had these opportunities. I was afforded the opportunity to study overseas three times between the ages of 16 and 24.  When I was 13 years old, my mother took me to New York City to see Baryshnikov dance.  We went to see the Nutcracker more times than I can count. 

I was a lucky kid. 

But adventurous, outdoor activities were not on my agenda as a kid. And that’s ok. My kids, however, will have a childhood full of outdoors and adventure. They will get wet and dirty, on a regular basis, and their memories of the process that made them that way will be nostalgic. I think that’s wonderful and I feel very content that I play a role in ensuring that this continues. 

I guess that’s what it means to be a parent. I like it.