“Jessica!?…Jessica!” My heart was beating faster and I took deep breaths to try and slow it, while pushing myself deeper into the corner of my closet. The bedroom door opened and I heard my mom say my name again, a tone of annoyance sounding in her voice. “I know you’re in here” she says. I hear the covers on my bed rustle, then the squeak of the closet as the door slides open. “Get out of there and get outside. There’s too much work to do in the yard for you to be in here, doing what? Reading?” I look up at her, a nervous smile on my face and clutching a book to my chest. My still pounding heart falls as I know that Trixie Belden will have to wait.

I knew better than to try and get out of chores, but reading was so addicting that I felt almost pained when I had to put a book down and rejoin the outside world. Interestingly, the book had been my mother’s, as were most of my books at that time in my tween years. Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, Anne of Green Gables…they were the gateway. Before them books were purely recreational.

A couple of summers later I spent with my grandparents, in Nebraska, furthered my thirst for books and stories. One afternoon I was walking down to the Post Office to get the mail. Actually, I was meandering and taking my time because I didn’t want to help hang the laundry. Before I got to the Post Office I stepped into the doorway of the old library (now City Hall, pictured above). It hadn’t been in use for years, but the shelves were lined with books and I just knew something special was in there. Later that day as we were making dinner I mentioned the library to my Grandma, a very practical woman. She gave me a brief history of it and stated that she had a key to the building. Have you ever seen fireworks explode in a 14 year old? I asked if I could go inside. She didn’t understand why and listed all the practical reasons against entering: it was old, dusty, not in use for years, had no modern books, etc… I didn’t understand how this treasure was so close and yet so far away. For the next few days I brought the subject up several times, beginning casually and ending (I’m sure) in pleading and begging. Finally Grandma relented. She took the key out and off we went. When she opened the door the silence was almost overwhelming. I stepped in and slowly surveyed the room, my fingers itching to open a book. The smell was heavenly- old paste and paper. I reached for a book and was brought out of my real-life daydream by Grandma telling me not to mess anything up, and that it was time to go. We had just gotten there and I felt my heart ache with longing.

I have always enjoyed books and stories whether I was reading them myself, or being read to. Do you have a favorite book or story from childhood?

“Does your mom know you’re up there?” asks Bernice, our kindly next door neighbor. “Yeah”, we immediately respond in unison. Her question caught us off guard, we didn’t know anyone had seen us. “Well, ok…”, Bernice says as she begins to climb the steps to her porch. I think to myself, “Wow, that worked?” Then pausing, she turns back to look up at us shielding her eyes with her hand and says, “I’ll just check with your mom.” We quickly scramble back to the open window and crawl inside. Joe looks for a place to hide-under the bed. I look for a plausible reason, and there they are….crayons. I grab a handful and fling them through the open window and onto the roof (Yes, we were on the second story roof). Then I grab a few more and drop them into a plastic cup that had been lying on the floor. “What are you kids doing up here?” mom says as the sound of her footsteps signal her location on the stairs. “Nothing!” we call out. She’s at the top of the stairs and turning to look at us. As she walks down the hallway, I put on the best smile my nervous eight year old self can muster, heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears. “Look!” I say, holding out the cup with crayons. “We saw a bunch of crayons on the roof and went out to get them. We knew you’d be mad if the roof was messy.” I offer, proud of my quick thinking. Mom asks, “How did they get out there?” I don’t have an answer for that, so I say, “I don’t know, they must have been left by the last family who lived here.” Mom looks at me and shakes her head back and forth slowly. I rack my brain and say, “Joe must have thrown them out there.” My five year old brother slides out from under the bed hollering, “No I didn’t!” then gives me a shove. Mom sends me to my room, keeps Joe in his room and proceeds to gather the crayons from the roof.

I don’t know for sure why I lied that day. Maybe I was scared of the consequences, confused about why we weren’t supposed to be on the roof, or didn’t want my mom to be disappointed. Lying typically begins between the ages of 3-5, and is a normal and frustrating stage of development. I’m also not sure why my older brother wasn’t on the roof with us, but must have had something more important to do than hang with the ‘little kids’. One thing I know for sure is that I still use crayons, but I don’t use them on the roof.

Crayon art found here.

Many things in this world are smooth. Some tangible, others not, but in my mind nothing will ever be as smooth as teeth freshly released from the prison of braces.

At eight years old, the first set of braces were firmly cemented into my mouth. Two years later, and newly moved from Kansas to Colorado, I was granted parole for a couple of years. The pain of braces: frequent aching and throbbing only alleviated by biting down on the handle of a toothbrush, raw and stinging insides of lips and cheeks that no amount of wax could ever protect fully, gum, candy and anything worth eating withheld, and the constant teasing from kids and adults (metal mouth, brace face, franken-teeth) all made the sentence more than unpleasant. The smiling me above was on my birthday, and therefore with cake, I was obliged to smile because cake was worth it.

The new orthodontist who removed my shackles, I mean braces, did so quickly and unceremoniously. After the cement was ground off and the teeth polished he directed, “Ok, feel around with your tongue to make sure I got it all off.” I was shocked. Nothing had ever felt so glorious, so divine, so smooth! It was difficult to answer him because I was lost in reverie, bubble gum and corn on the cob dancing through my head. The good doctor even put my braces, still wired together, into a small paper envelope for me to keep. My tongue couldn’t get enough. All the way home I don’t think I said even two words, and when we arrived I proudly smiled for my family. The paper envelope went into the bathroom drawer and I proceeded to enjoy dinner as I had never done before.

The next few days I felt odd, and couldn’t put my finger on it. Physically, I felt fine and had plenty of energy, but there was a feeling of melancholy. One evening I couldn’t sleep. I went to the bathroom to get a glass of water. I looked in the mirror and stared at the smooth teeth in my mouth. I didn’t recognize myself and became sad. I remembered the paper envelope in the drawer and pulled it out. Carefully, I opened the flap and tipped out the braces into my palm. They were shiny and rough and looked so small. I held them up and pressed them to my teeth, while looking in the mirror. Then my eyes filled with tears and I cried. I missed the braces. I didn’t feel special anymore. Nothing set me apart. I was sad.

Knowing what I know now about human and child development, I was experiencing a sense of loss. I didn’t enjoy the braces, but they had become part of my identity and when taken away, part of me was taken away too. This is a normal part of development for children.

Some children may act out in anger or sadness such as biting, property destruction, or fighting when they experience loss. Loss comes in many forms such as significant losses like the death of a loved one or moving to a new home, or less realized losses such as a change to their daily routine or transitioning from a bottle to a sippy cup. Understanding that your child may be experiencing a loss, even if you feel it is insignificant, is the first step in supporting them through it. Your child needs to know that you are there to help them navigate their feelings. Start by identifying their feelings for them, “You seem upset and are telling me by throwing the toys.”, and help them learn to express their feelings in different ways such as stomping their feet, using a special pillow to squeeze and by using words that you model for them. It is also important to know that a child experiencing loss may not express themselves right away, but instead may express their upset several days or weeks later.

After a two year parole the second part of my sentence was enforced. As I emerged from another orthodontist’s office, fully shackled top to bottom I knew that at my next release I would not experience the same feeling of sadness and loss. As a 13 year old, I had developed a new understanding of my identity and having an orthodontic ‘rap sheet’ was not my idea of cool. Ironically, I did receive a decreased sentence for good behavior and three years later, my release date was a thing to celebrate. I was given a monitoring device, I mean retainer, and sent on my way.

Now, just over 20 years free, I am glad to have had that experience. What are some experiences you’ve had that have stuck with you?

If you want something, ask for it. You don’t necessarily have to ask out loud, though it is often the quickest way to getting your needs met. But, what if you are asking for the wrong thing? Or, just not asking clearly?

I really want a cookie right now. I do not want an oatmeal raisin cookie. Is that clear?

A few years ago my friend, Kortney, and I had just finished lunch while on a break from work. On the way back to the office I stated that I wanted a cookie, a chocolate chip cookie. We stopped at a coffee shop that also served baked goods. We walked up to the counter and I chose a chocolate chip cookie and a brownie (it just looked good). I was anticipating getting back to our office and opening my treat, planning to save the brownie for the following day. Sitting at my desk I peeled the plastic off the cookie, took a bite, and heard Kortney laughing at the expression on my face. It was not a chocolate chip cookie. It was oatmeal raisin, and it was in the trash. I know, wasteful, but I wasn’t going to eat it. I don’t have anything against oatmeal raisin cookies, especially if my brother, Jeff, has made them. But, when I get a craving I like to satisfy that craving. Trying to redeem the moment and satisfy myself, I unwrapped the brownie and took a bite. Yuck. Ok, it probably wasn’t bad at all, but it wasn’t what I wanted. Kortney saved the brownie from the fate of the garbage, “You can’t throw a brownie away!” she said.

How could that situation have been different? I could have actually asked the cashier if the cookie I had was chocolate chip. It wasn’t very bright in the coffee shop and the sign posted did say “Choc0late chip, Oatmeal raisin, Macadamia nut”. So, it is understandable how the cookies might have looked similar, but, I didn’t ask.

Children of all ages, birth to adolescence, ask for things to get their needs met. Sometimes they ask with words and sometimes they don’t, leaving the adult to interpret the need (best of luck). This is how life works. But, what if children could be taught to ask or express their needs so that confusion happens less often? The answer is that they can be taught. The first step is teaching the adults how to do support them.

A child asks to go to the park. You say you will take them. The child runs to their room and begins gathering items to take. You stop them and say that you’re not going to take everything. The child becomes upset. You become upset. No one goes to the park. Likely, the child had a plan in their mind. They wanted to take certain toys and use them at the park, but was unable to express this to you. Let me interpret: “Can we go to the park?” really might mean, “Can we go to the park? I want to take my buckets and shovels and make sand castles like we did when we went to the beach last summer. I had so much fun with you and and I want to experience that again. I also want to take my ball so that we can kick it on the grass. I also want to take my book because I love it when you read to me and since you always sit at the park, I thought you might like to read to me…” Adults can help teach children to express themselves by first interpreting for the child what they see. For example, “It looks like you want to take some toys to the park with you. You’ve packed the sand toys. What do you want to do with the sand toys?” Even if the child is unable to answer you, you are still modeling for them. Soon, they will be asking and expressing themselves more fully.

Often, when a child becomes upset for what appears to be no reason, the likely reason is just in their head and they can’t get it out. They are unable to express themselves. You don’t have to be a mind reader to explain to the child that it looks like they are upset or frustrated. Just let them know you understand their feelings. I am certainly not suggesting that this is an easy task, but stick with it. Your child will soon be able to identify their feelings and with that will come the expressions of what they want. You don’t always have to give them what they are asking for, but do acknowledge their feelings and desires.

Back to my cookie. When I was still in middle school, my family visited my Aunt Julie and Uncle Mark. Aunt Julie had made chocolate chip cookie bars. They were divine. I have never tasted anything as good, but some chocolate chip cookies come close and satisfy my cravings. The day I threw the oatmeal raisin cookie in the trash, I realized later that what I really wanted was to revisit that time with my family. Yes, the taste was the trigger, but it was the feeling of my family sitting around the table, eating cookie bars and playing games that I was truly craving. As soon as I verbalized it, to myself, the craving went away.

P.S. The techniques we use for children also work on adults- loved ones, coworkers, friends. You just have to use different language. Happy interpreting!

In the picture above, I’m holding a toothbrush while sitting in the sink of my parents’ bathroom, and covered in dirt as usual. While looking at this picture I remembered the first time I took my teeth seriously.

I was probably about five years old and the excitement of an increasingly loose tooth was making me more fidgety than normal. The tooth fairy was on my mind constantly, and the pending magic of her monetary exchange gave me goosebumps. I proudly showed off my loose tooth to anyone willing to look. My dad offered to tie a string to my tooth and attach it to a door knob…my face locked in a fearful expression as he finished the explanation. That offer was firmly declined.

The morning the tooth finally came out I think I heard angels singing. Bedtime was too far away. As I examined the newly released tooth, I noticed a brown spot…a cavity! Worried that the tooth fairy wouldn’t accept my less than perfect offering (I wonder who put that thought in my head…) I headed to the bathroom and set to work. Water on, toothbrush loaded with toothpaste, determination filling me, I began to brush that tiny tooth. The spot wouldn’t go away, so I squeezed out more toothpaste and continued. Then my world stopped. The tooth slipped from my fingers and slid right down the drain. I immediately ran to get my mother, tears streaming down my face. There was no hope of retrieving the tooth she assured me. I was devastated, and the already long day began to slow even more.

I believe at some point during my wailing there was a learning point offered to me, something about if I had brushed better then I wouldn’t have had the cavity in the first place and not had the need to remove it, blah, blah, blah…Of course none of that made me feel better, nor did it inspire me to prevent this from happening again, at least not at the time. My magic-believing five year old self was on the edge of despair.

Bedtime finally came and I cried knowing that the tooth fairy would be disappointed and may never visit me again. When I woke the next morning, there was a coin, a nickle I think. I was elated and jumped out of bed to announce the good news. I couldn’t understand how it was possible…maybe the tooth fairy’s magic allowed her to retrieve the tooth from the drain. All I knew in that moment was that there was still hope for my remaining baby teeth and my piggy bank. I never received more than a quarter from the tooth fairy, but it didn’t matter, the real prize for me was the belief in the magic.

As the years progressed the teeth tribulations continued: The removal of my lower canine teeth to ‘make room’, resulting in my remaining teeth ‘falling over’ and causing the new canines to come in crooked. The pool injury of 1984, resulting in one chipped front tooth, a fat lip, and an enhanced overbite…and later three oral surgeries, eight years of braces, retainers, and head gear. The list goes on and continues to this day. Oddly enough, my most pleasant ‘teeth’ experience was with an oral surgeon and the removal of my four wisdom teeth- one hour, no swelling, no complications. He’s in Tucson if you want his name. My brothers have not suffered the same fate as I. My older brother has never had a cavity, nor any other issue. My younger brother has endured braces, and a filling or two I think.

Reviewing my ‘collection’ of more than 14 dentists, orthodontists, and oral surgeons (we moved a lot when I was young) the many things learned are a combination of typical oral health gems and life lessons.

February is National Children’s Dental Health Month. There are many beliefs around the oral health care of children such as ‘baby teeth don’t matter’, but did you know that the American Academy of Pediatric Dentistry recommends children begin visiting the dentist no later than 12 months of age? And, that early oral health is connected to school readiness? You can find the policy and recommendations here, under clinical guidelines. During my work with infants and toddlers in Early Head Start, swabbing and tooth brushing were part of the daily routine. Helping young children become comfortable and empowered in their oral health care not only benefits their health but also makes visiting the dentist less scary.

Here are a few songs to help make tooth brushing more fun, but any song will work. Do you have suggestions for tooth brushing or visiting the dentist?

Did you ever play shadow tag? It’s a chasing game played outdoors. On a sunny day children chase each other trying to step on the shadows of other children.  How about shadow puppets, did you play that? Sometimes on a long car ride, my brothers and I would make shadow puppets on the backs of our parents’ seats. A pretend battle would take place between shadows, and inevitably the battle would carry over into reality when our hands would engage in combat and the shadow play would end.

Flashlights gave us kids the opposite of daytime shadows, and provided even more fun. A flashlight was several things: a light in the dark, a blinding agent for a mean older brother, a light saber (sound effects not included), a bat, a toy, a tool, and above all else a source of power. Everyone wanted a flashlight. I remember begging for a chance to take a turn holding the flashlight, whether we were camping, playing outside at night, or just hanging out.

Once, when I was eight or nine we were outside playing at night. Lots of kids in the neighborhood were out and the parents were all visiting in the front yards. I think everyone was outside because it was an especially busy night for lightning bugs, also known as fireflies. The porch lights were off and the adults had flashlights. The children were running around trying to catch as many lightning bugs as they could. When I got tired I asked the use the flashlight, then took it to the sidewalk. I stood there looking down at my shoes, standing on the sidewalk. I began to slowly walk forward. It was necessary to have the light on the ground because the sidewalk was very uneven due to tree roots.  What I discovered while walking is that I could see, in that circle of light, the texture of the ground move in what appeared to be an extremely fast way. It looked like I was practically flying over the ground. Of course the faster I moved, the faster the ground went by. I was fascinated by it.

The same effect occurs when you’re in a vehicle passing a field and the grass, or crop, moves past your window in a blur. The neat thing about the flashlight, sidewalk and my feet, was that only what was in the circle of light was visible and that even though I was barely jogging, it appeared that I was moving at warp speed.

Fast forward about 17 years. I purchased several flashlights from a discount store and took them to an after school program. We stayed open until 6 pm and during the winter it was dark by 5pm. At that time there were probably 10 children left in care. I handed out the flashlights and took the kids into the outside hallway for space. They played and enjoyed the flashlights, then I showed them what I had discovered as a kid.  They each tried it out, running or walking up and down the dark hallway, squealing and laughing at how fast they appeared to be going. Then the really fun part began as the kids, ages 5-12, discussed why they thought it happened, why some kids felt a little dizzy even while walking slowly, and why the flashlight shined on the wall didn’t have the same effect as it did being shined on the feet and ground.

The flashlights became a regular activity, often being modified and used in different ways. I truly love watching the creativity of children.

A couple of years ago my niece was outside, running around on a sunny day. She was two at the time, and very curious. I was following her and pointed to her shadow. She stared at it for several seconds, then moved on. She stopped often and looked at her shadow, then she began to move her body while staring at her shadow (picture above). It was a joy watching her, and I realized that I am still fascinated by shadows and light.

Activities using light and shadows are almost endless. What are some that you’ve enjoyed over the years?

This week I read a review of the book, “Much Loved“. Basically, the book is a collection of photographs and stories about childhood teddy bears. It reminded me of my own childhood bear, which I still have. Digging it out of a storage box, I held it up and gazed into its blue yarn eyes….it had plastic eyes, but I chewed them off as a youngster and mom closed the holes with blue yarn. I began to look through old photographs to see if I could find one of my bear and me. Instead, I found one of me holding a Winnie the Pooh and I remembered instantly how much I loved that bear too, although that toy didn’t stand the test of time. Teddy bears have comforted and delighted children and adults for more than a hundred years, and continue to hold a special place in our society and hearts.

This past weekend I visited both of my nieces. The oldest, who turned four a couple of days ago, has loved stuffed bears and soft toys since she was an infant. One of my favorite memories was of her first Christmas. She received a giant teddy bear and returned to it over and over, falling on it and ‘attacking’ it with hugs. The youngest, who is 9 months old, has a collection of stuffed bears handed down from family as well as new. One of the new bears is shaped in the form of a seat. She crawls over to it and plops face first into the soft seat, smiling and making happy babbling sounds.

Around the country several crisis response teams have kits for families and children experiencing difficult situations, and often in those kits a stuffed bear is included. I think the teddy bear has become a symbol of comfort as well as love. Valentine’s day is around the corner and inevitably there will be shelves of stuffed bears holding hearts bearing affectionate sayings.

What is it that makes teddy bears stand the test of time as the top cuddle choice of kids? Did you have a favorite bear or stuffed animal as a child? Do you still have it?

We lived in Fort Collins, Colorado for about a year when I was 10. It was a big city for us, exciting and scary. I have so many memories of that year both pleasant and not, but one sticks out as the funniest. Some moments are funny but gain humor over time and become funnier. This moment was super funny at the time and just retains the same epic humor. It was the first and only time I peed my pants (just a little) from laughing so hard. I wish I had a picture of the setting.

My older brother, Jeff, younger brother, Joe, and I climbed over our back yard fence (we weren’t used to being fenced in) and headed to the canal that ran right behind our house. The water flowed freely and we had explored it extensively during warmer months. Now that it was frozen over, we continued our explorations. It was fascinating to see the movement of the water below the ice in some parts and even more amazing to see the frozen fish, minnows we thought, suspended in the ice.

The three of us were ‘skating’ back and forth across the ice, then challenging each other to try more difficult tricks or maneuvers. Jeff heard it first, the first whine of the ice that signals weakness. But, we’d experienced that before and kept on playing. Then, a few more high pitched whines. Jeff easily slid himself to the edge and stepped off. He warned us to follow. I was next and as my foot stepped on the ice closest to the bank, the toe of my shoe broke through and my toes felt the sharp zap of icy water. I squealed. Joe froze on the ice after watching this. Then the first real cracking sounds began. We told him to get off the ice, but to go slow and not try to run. He slid one foot in front of him and began to transfer his weight to that foot. The ice began to give and as he moved his back foot to take another step the forward foot broke through the ice. Immediately he was in the water, one leg held up and to the side and the other wet to just below his knee. The look on his face…total shock. He made some sounds, but no words. Then he put his dry foot on the ice and tried to step up. As his wet foot came clear of the water the other foot plunged and leg into the icy water. Every step was the same- step, plunge, step, plunge. It was so funny because he literally looked like a cartoon, his actions, his expression, the weird sounds. We were big Indiana Jones fans and this whole scene reminded us of Indiana Jones getting into a pickle. We were trying to get him to the edge but it was so funny, we were doubled over laughing and had a hard time reaching our arms out. Once he got to the edge we began the very short (50 yards maybe) walk to our house, in the snow. When we reached the fence, that’s when reality hit Joe. It was one thing to put frozen foot in front of frozen foot while walking but to climb over a fence and then jump down onto frozen feet, well that’s really painful (as I experienced myself later in life).

Jeff and I reenacted the scene over and over, mimicking Joe and laughing hysterically. He wasn’t too happy with us, but somehow forgave us along the way.

My dad was repairing or building something over the Christmas holiday and had accumulated a small pile of cut boards about 18″ long, that would be discarded. I was 9, and ‘helping’ him. One of the boards had two holes drilled into the edge, I picked it up, and had an idea. My older brother’s birthday was coming up and I was going to make him a present. I persuaded my dad to drill several more holes, in a line, into the first piece of wood. Then I took two more pieces and retreated to my room and art supplies (crayons). On the first piece I spelled out ‘Pencil Holder’. The word ‘pencil’ was written in bubble letters (popular at the time), and the word ‘holder’, well I ran out of room and had to make do. On the second piece of wood I wrote my brother’s first name and then, because I ran out of space again, his middle and last initial. It made sense to me. Finally, on the third piece of wood was written ‘Happy Birthday’. I was proud of my work and could imagine the pieces lined up on his desk with pencils filling the holes. I was sure this was just what he wanted.

I was nervous and excited as he opened his gifts. He graciously smiled and read the words I had written, then posed for a picture. It turns out the basketball (or was it a football?) was the hit that year.

When children make things it allows them to practice creativity and problem solving. And when they give away their hard work, it is an attempt to connect and share themselves with others. There are many prepackaged crafts or crafts that have an end result that look cute but don’t necessarily offer the opportunity to be creative. I’m not saying don’t use them, but if your child starts to get creative and glues the wiggle eyes where the ears typically go, just go with it and let them explore. Your child interacts with people daily, they know where the eyes belong.

Recycling and reusing used household items gives a child (and adult) much more freedom to explore their creativity. Very young children, under two years old, have varying attention spans and need to engage their bodies in play. So, don’t be surprised if after you set up an activity (water play for example), your child moves on or becomes fussy after a minute or two- or wants to come back to it throughout the day. Many children between the ages of two and four have very little capacity to sit and attend to a craft without constant input from an adult. Often, these activities will end quickly or evolve into something else. For example: Painting a picture for grandma may turn into, “What does paint feel like on my arm?”. Flexibility and understanding on the part of the parent or adult caregiver is very important for the sanity for everyone involved.

Do you remember making things as a child?

P.S. Happy birthday, Jeff.

My husband and I recently traveled to Illinois and Wisconsin to visit family and friends. Several people questioned our timing, as winter seemed an odd time to travel. Snow was abundant and the temperatures ranged from 40 to 3 above zero. The areas we visited were beautiful and we are both glad to have made the trip. However, there were a few hours prior to our flight home that I wondered if our trip would be involuntarily extended due to the weather conditions. I am typically a ‘rules and schedules’ type of person, but since meeting my husband I’ve become much more flexible, especially during travel. So, those few hours of wondering whether our flight would be further delayed or canceled took my emotions from concern, for our pets at home and imposing upon our friends for another night or two, to confident and relaxed, knowing that we had packed extra clothes and that no appointments or work commitments were scheduled until the following week.

I look back at my travel experiences for the past 10 years and can identify the ones where the potential for upset was greatest: Grand Cayman- delayed luggage (I didn’t handle it extremely well and was worried it would be lost), rainy weather (I actually enjoyed it, even during scuba diving). Miami- Hurricane season (ended up being downgraded, and when you’re with one of your best girlfriends who is calm and almost excited about the prospect of a ‘hurricane party’, worry seems to just melt away and become adventure). Los Angeles- Vehicle breakdown (friends and a calm husband as travel companions make all the difference). In all of these circumstances everything worked out fine in the end, and we can laugh about each experience.

Looking back to my childhood, I can identify THE travel experience that had the most significant impact on me. It’s the one that I can measure all others to. I think I was maybe 6 or 7, and we had driven from Louisiana to Nebraska for the Christmas holiday. My parents had borrowed a friend’s full sized van for the two day trip and my brothers and I were so excited to have our own seats-ah, luxury. The holidays were a blast and the snow was fun. It was super cold that winter, the wind chill was recorded at -99, that’s 99 degrees below zero…yes, you read that right. It was only 1 degree off the record. When we left to go home we had to follow a snow plow out to the highway. A blizzard was on the way and we wanted to beat the worst of it. At one point my dad was driving equal distances between the tops of the fence posts, just barely visible sticking out of the snow, because we couldn’t see the road.  I’m not sure how far we got after leaving the ranch, but it was far enough that we couldn’t turn back safely. The blizzard got worse and luckily we ended up following another snow plow into a tiny town with maybe a few hundred residents. We stopped at a gas station to inquire about lodging and the attendant said it was lucky that we got there when we did because the snow plows had just been called off due to the blizzard. The station attendant pointed across the road to a tiny motel, and gave us a can of corn, a can of Vienna sausages, a can of fruit cocktail, a can opener, crackers, a pouch of instant coffee and a camp stove to heat it with. The room at the motel had one full sized bed, patches on the sheets and snow coming in through the cracks around the door and windows. We used tissues to stuff in the cracks, stopping often to blow on our frozen fingers. I remember being cold and cranky and my parents trying to distract us for a time. In the morning my dad couldn’t open the door. We were snowed in and it took a few hours to be dug out. It was eery to hear the tools and shovels scooping and scraping away the snow from the building. After we were dug out, we began the slow journey home. The ordeal was significant because of the unknown. I didn’t fully understand what was happening and even though my parents understood the circumstances, they didn’t fully know what to expect either. What was helpful was that I had my parents and brothers to go through it with and process it afterward. Years later, we still talked about it and as I matured through childhood, adolescence and young adulthood, I continued to process that experience in different ways.

Children often feel the need to revisit significant events in their lives several times, especially with a trusted adult or caregiver. The revisiting helps them develop understanding on different levels. Think of the child whose pet has died and brings it up over and over again, even years later. They are simply trying to understand it and connect emotions in their ever maturing self. When an adult listens and discusses it with the child each time, the child feels connected and secure. When an adult dismisses the child (“You were two. You don’t even remember Fluffy.), the child receives the message that these connections to experiences and emotions aren’t important.

Think of those experiences you’ve had as a child and still think about years later. How did you feel about it? Did you have a parent or trusted adult to revisit it with? The experiences may be pleasant or unpleasant, but significant all the same.