If you have preschoolers in your home, you probably know the “ Ten in the Bed” song. Or you might have one of the many children’s books featuring the words. Well, it reminds me of my family, except there are 5 in the bed. My 3 daughters (yes, even the 12-year-old) like nothing better than all piling up together. One of their favorite things to do is to pull out our couch into a bed in our family room and watch a movie together.

My husband says it reminds him of the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory movie when those old grandparents all lay in that big bed together all day long. I always thought that part was kind of weird. Now, we do the same thing. My family all squeeze onto the pull out, eating, watching the movie, and trying not to fall off the edge or to unintentionally elbow someone.

I used to feel sorry for that poor, weary mother in Willy Wonka but now I understand that she didn’t want to lie down. It’s torture. I should probably note that my husband is 6’4” and 270 pounds. Size 16 feet. Big. So, husband on one half and me and 3 kids on the other half.

When we do our couch/movie thing I’m always hopping up. “Popcorn? I’ll make it!” I can usually stretch that out for about 20 minutes, maybe check my e-mail or make a quick phone call. Then I crawl back in. Ten minutes later, “anyone need another pillow?” Then, off I go again. You get the picture.

We are a very physically affectionate family. We all hug each other a lot and all of my kids will still plop down on a lap, if it’s available. My two oldest are as tall as I am (did I mention tall gene from husband?) so I know this is probably going to end sometime soon. I savor it even when I groan internally at the size of the child on my lap. It reminds me of that book, “Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch, where the grown son sits on his mother’s lap. The words and message are beautiful but I always thought the illustrations were a bit strange. Now, I get it.

There is tons of research documenting the benefit of touch in infants and young children. In fact, many believe that there are real health benefits of physical touch for people of any age. Think about the sense of general well being one gets after a massage. Touch is powerful.

Another example of my children loving physical closeness is how they sleep in the same bed every night. Feet in each others faces, arms hanging off of the side, all curled up. The really ridiculous part is that they all have their own bedrooms. All thoughtfully decorated to reflect their styles and personalities, I might add. Strawberry Shortcake for my youngest, artsy flowers for my middle daughter, and bright neon pink and lime green for my oldest.

If we were forcing them to sleep in the same bed in the same room I can only imagine the complaints we would hear.

“Everyone I know has their own bed!”

“It’s not fair how she always gets to sleep next to the wall!”

We’ve encouraged sleeping in their own rooms. We’ve told them how much more comfortably they’d sleep, but with no success. Truthfully, we find it very sweet. These 3 girls who at times during the day want to claw each other’s eyes out, snuggle all night long. Before falling asleep, I can often hear them whispering and giggling. I couldn’t orchestrate better bonding moments if I tried.

-Kay

I’m no longer a practicing Catholic.

But now that the election is over, I may need to confess my sins.

“Bless me, Father,” I would say in the confessional, “for I have said 400 unloving things during political debates, rallies and conventions. Out loud. In front of my children.”

It’s important to note here that I am generally a mother who prides herself on practicing and preaching tolerance whenever applicable. I don’t let my children say bad things about people who are different than they, nor so much as kill a spider that finds its way into the house.

I am also a mother who strode up and down in front of the TV during political conventions and debates, yelling intolerant comments at various and specific candidates, while openly sneering at them in front of my children.

Could it help to know I’m not the only sinner in the room?

“My son said watching me watch the (other) convention, was like watching Dad watch college football on Saturday,” said my friend, Megan. “I kept telling him we have to understand what’s good about all the candidates. But my son says, ‘Then why did you always yell at Sarah Palin when she was on television, Mom?’”

Let me also say that in addition to practicing and preaching tolerance, my friend Megan and I routinely practice other good habits that make us role models for our children. In fact, about the worst I do in front of my kids is sneak my own popcorn into movies. I consistently drive 1-4 miles over the speed limit. OK, and as long as I’m coming clean, I say bad words on particularly significant occasions, like the other day when the lid exploded off the blender, spraying scalding potato soup all over me.

I promise to bring these items before Father while I’m in there.

Meanwhile, I know that part of being cleansed of sin is vowing not to commit them anymore. And therein is going to be our little problem: I’ll do much better saying 400 Hail Marys for penance than going back into the world with a renewed commitment not to say ugly things about people who I think are saying ugly things. That’s the funny thing about my breed of intolerance. My intolerance is almost always in response to other people’s ugliness. Shouldn’t that be OK? Or is this just moral justification, much like saying it’s OK to take in my own popcorn because they are price-gauging me with theirs?

“I’m sorry,” I kept telling my kids, especially my impressionable preteen, even as I was yelling at the TV. I’m not perfect, and neither are the Amish, who reportedly sew the tiniest mistake into each beautifully accomplished quilt. They make the mistake intentionally as noting that only God is perfect.

The same could be said when I’m yelling at the TV. I am not God — and neither is that &^%$#$%B on C-Span.

- Debra-Lynn

The leaves are almost off, the frost is on the ground, and turkey is on sale at the grocery store. It’s parent-teacher conference time!

I’ve sat on both sides of the desk for parent conferences. I taught for 10 years before I was promoted to “Mommy.” Trust me. It’s much more emotional sitting on the parent side. Here are a few things I’ve learned along the way.

1. Share relevant information. Remember, school will help your child to grow socially and emotionally, as well as academically. It’s appropriate to share any issues that may impact your child in any of those areas. My very energetic niece will be entering Kindergarten next year. My sister is debating on whether to discuss that with the K teacher before my niece attends school. She doesn’t want to negatively bias the teacher against her daughter, yet she wants the teacher to be proactive rather than reactive when dealing with behavior. My advice is to give the teacher a heads-up. It will help with things like seating and proximity control, and also will open the pathway of communication.

2. Be positive when discussing your child. There are usually at least two ways to describe behavior. We could say that a child is lazy or we could say that he needs positive reinforcement to motivate him. We could say that a child is messy and loses things or we could say that he needs some strategies to help with organization.

My oldest was concerned when we recently scheduled a conference for her. “What are you going to say?” I reassured her that her Dad and I are on her team. We have her back. While we certainly aren’t going to allow her to coast through 7th grade, our goal is not to talk despairingly about her but rather to brainstorm ways for her to reach her potential.

3. Schedule a conference whenever you feel the need. We didn’t wait until the official conferences for our daughter because we could see that she wasn’t pushing herself. I called her guidance counselor, requested 30 minutes with the core teachers and five days later we had our conference.

4. If you have a specific agenda or concern, bring along your spouse, or your sister, or neighbor or someone who knows your child and your situation. Even if your person sits there mute the entire time, it’s good support. Later, if something is unclear you’ll be able to confer. Jot down your concerns before the conference and take notes during. It helps to focus and clarify your thoughts.

5. Request any special accommodations that you feel would help your child to succeed. Maybe your child needs a morning snack to stay focused. Perhaps the math homework is overwhelming and your child should only do the odd numbered problems. Most teachers are flexible and sincerely appreciate your parental insight.

Services such as special education testing, physical therapy, occupational therapy, math and reading assistance, speech therapy, and counseling are other options. The school will do an evaluation at teacher or parent request. If appropriate, they’ll provide services. When my oldest was in Kindergarten, I requested a speech evaluation. Her teacher thought it was unnecessary but I knew there were certain sounds she couldn’t articulate. She was embarrassed and hesitant to talk at school. Three months later, after speech class once a week, she was Miss Chatty.

6. Don’t be defensive. At another daughter’s 1st grade conference, her teacher recommended she receive some assistance in reading. We were stunned. My initial feeling was, “No way! She doesn’t need extra help. Maybe you’re not teaching her very much!” Luckily, I was able to stifle that. My daughter did receive extra help that year and now in 4th grade she reads above grade level.

7. Follow up with an e-mail thanking the teacher for her time and support. If some action was decided upon, mention that. It keeps things clear and even though our own children are paramount in our minds, teachers have lots of little people and details to attend to so it’s easy to let something slip. Feel free to contact the teacher a few weeks later to check on how things are going.

Wish me luck on my other two conferences next week!

-Kay

My 11-year-old son, whose school was closed on Election Day, was clearly not into performing civic duty on his day off.

“Can I take my soccer ball when we go talk to voters?”

“No,” I said. “I want you focused on what we’re doing.”

“I promise I’’ll be focused, Mom,” he said.

“Some of the neighborhoods we’re going into are on busy streets.”

“I’ll pick up the ball and carry it then,” he said.

“No.”

“This is the worst day of my life,” he said.

“Let’s call it suffering, sadness and service in the name of your candidate,” I said, handing him a sheaf of papers marked with 89 residential addresses, where we would go to remind people to vote.

In the space of a few hours, we made it to all 89 addresses. Rather, I made it to all 89 addresses, he made it to the halfway mark and started melting. But 45 addresses and two hours is enough to embody civic duty and responsibility, especially for an 11-year-old, especially on a sunny day in November when the rest of his friends are playing football in the schoolyard. Forty-five addresses was enough, even, to evoke this statement from him the next day,: “I’m glad I did that yesterday with you, Mom. It makes me feel good that I contributed something to the president winning.”

Such are the comments parents live and die for, even as days like Election Day are also days we bask in, when the whole family and the whole country is together around a common cause: my two older children also canvassed voters door-to-door. And at the end of the day, we and 50 of our closest friends — including a 55-year-old African-American social studies teacher who grew up with segregation in 1950s, including friends from Saudi Arabia and Spain and my college son’s new friend from France, including poll workers and poll drivers — all crowded into our tiny living room around something much larger than ourselves.

“Election Day made me feel more American,” said my 20-year-old son, an international relations college major who voted this year for the first time. “It didn’t even matter if you were Republican or Democrat. Even though the country is very split, and there was a lot of division during the election - there was just something about the whole country experiencing this together.”

It was a moment to savor, as moments like these don’t come but a few in a lifetime. The whole family stayed up way past bedtime on a school night watching the equally eloquent speeches of both victor and loser, watching the faces of jubilation around the world and singing patriotic songs. Even young Benjie, tired from canvassing voters, usually the first one to go to bed, stayed up until the wee hours singing “God Bless America.”

The next day, I kept him home from school, and when I forgot to call in his absence, the school secretary called me. I could have lied, It would have been easier just to say “He’s not feeling well,” which would have been truth enough for a child who got four hours of sleep the night before. But the whole truth was that he had worked on an election campaign, then stayed up into the night supporting a national moment, the likes of which I had never seen, the likes of which will go down in the annals of American history, the likes of which he contributed to.

“OK,” she said and hung up before I could keep going.

I wanted to tell her that my son learned something valuable on Election Day. He learned that civic responsibility not only means personal reward and accomplishment. Civic responsibility can sometimes even mean a contribution to victory - not to mention a celebratory day off from school.

- Debra-Lynn

Last Thursday, my mom was rushed to the Emergency Room with severe pneumonia. She is 76 and an incredibly strong woman. She gives of herself every minute – to my Dad (diagnosed with Prostrate Cancer last year), to her six children, to their spouses, and to her 17 grandchildren. She is truly selfless. Not quite a saint, but close. That is exactly how the pneumonia got so bad. She just wasn’t paying attention to her own needs.

So, what does all this have to do with children? Well, it is simple. Like all my siblings and my Dad, we’re spending a lot of time at the hospital, which means I am spending less time with my kids. This is a hard and beautiful lesson for all families – caring for each other sometimes means sacrifice.

This creates guilt no matter how you slice it, but it is a requirement of being a family member, too. And so, I am doing my best to make sure everyone is cared for and everyone feels loved. I am explaining that I am helping Gram because I love her and she is my mom. I am reassuring them that this is for a short time and that I love them so much.

My kids have been absolutely loving during this exhausting moment in our lives:
• They drew pictures for Gram
• They pray for Gram
• They are pitching in more than they ever have before

In addition, my kids are remarkably curious:
• Why is Gram so sick?
• Can I go see Gram at the hospital?
• What is the hospital like?
• What does her doctor do?
• When is she coming home?

I have done my best to answer (in kid language) every question and concern they have presented. I have done my best to praise their giving and loving acts of service. I have done my best to be grateful to my husband for his support in all this.

I am so proud of their loving and curious nature. And my heart swells with love when I realize how wonderful family can be, especially during these trying times. It is my hope that this experience teaches my children more about the bigger purpose of love – to share your time, to sacrifice sometimes, to do more than you thought you could, to remain hopeful, and to draw strength from each other.

I wish you love and family.

-Lisa

I don’t know about anybody else, but our house is wired for sound and has been for weeks as one of us was always flying out the door to attend a local political rally or to work for the local presidential campaign office.

The five of us, on any one occasion, stuffed envelopes, signed up people for rides to the polls and talked up our side to strangers. At home, surrounded by the political signs and buttons of our candidate, we watched the debates together, then engaged in our own debates around the kitchen table. We e-mailed political commentary to each other, watched the news shows, guffawed at Saturday Night Live. Even the 11-year-old got into the act, making official phone calls with a sweet child’s voice that would make anybody melt, change their vote and/or sometimes hang up on him.

Maybe this is the way it is in a family where the father is a political scientist. My kids have been eating politics with their oatmeal since they were born.

Or maybe this is Election 2008.

For a political rally in Cleveland on Sunday night, our family drove 45 minutes, then took a train another 20, then stood in line three hours to watch a screen image of our candidate and a famous rock celebrity in the rain. With us were not just tens of thousands of voting-age adults, but their children, sporting and carrying signs, buttons, flags and T shirts along with their Strawberry Shortcake backpacks.

“We wanted our kids to be part of history,” said Jack Prause, carrying one of his two tired daughters on his shoulders after the event.

My friend’s 9th-grade son in Columbia , S.C. , had a backyard basketball game a few weeks ago. It was the McCains against the Obamas. The other day she found a piece of paper in his jeans with a bar graph comparing the Obama and McCain tax plans, so he could debate more accurately with his friends. “My kids are really into the election this year,” she said.

Another friend’s 7-year-old in Atlanta waxed concern the other day that Obama’s health plan “doesn’t give as much money as McCain’s,” while her 5-year-old said “Obama is the Lord.”

“We had to correct her on that one,” my friend said.

Of course the political news coming out of Neverland isn’t all Popsicles and Care Bears.

A friend in Kent, Oh., helping her 10-year-old dress out for hockey, overheard one kid tell another in the locker room: “Obama is a baby killer.” “Well, McCain’s just going to raise your taxes,” the other kid said, “Hey, guys, let’s focus on hockey,” the woman had to interject.

In another unnamed city, trick-or-treaters had to deal with the agony of political intolerance even as they were only trying to load up with Milky Ways. “Your parents voting for so-and-so?” apparently the woman doling out candy would say as she opened her door on Halloween. If they said no to her candidate of choice? “No candy for you,” she would say, and close the door.

For weeks, we adults have been riveted, hypnotized, captured – crazed, I might say - by what arguably is the most exciting presidential campaign in U.S. history.

What rivets adults, of course, rivets children.

I know our family will be no less focused tonight, as we host an Election Night party with as many friends – young and old – as we can cram in our tiny house.

But first, my 20-year-old will vote in his first presidential election, after which he and his sister will be assigned to a neighborhood where they will ask who needs a ride to the polls.

My husband will work at headquarters, on the phones, asking a similar question.

As for me, I will drive college students to the polls, my 11-year-old riding shotgun.

I know he’ll end up reading Harry Potter when he gets bored.

But like Jack Prause said: It’s history in the making.

And we are helping make it.

- Debra-Lynn

I hope I’m not the only parent asking questions this week about guns and children, in particular submachine guns and children, in particular Uzis and a certain 8-year-old boy.

The Uzi to which I refer is a weapon that can fire hundreds of rounds in one minute, described in Tuesday’s Boston Globe as: “a 50-year-old weapon once used by the Israeli infantry and later adapted for use by commandos and secret service agencies around the world because it can be used in close quarters to fire rapidly.”

Wikipedia, meanwhile, suggests “design drawbacks,” specifically “blowback firearms tend to have reduced accuracy, because as the trigger is pulled, the bolt slams forward and hits the breech, interfering with the shooter’s aim.”

This is the type of weapon used by Arnold Schwarzenegger and bad guys in video games looking to kill massive amounts of people very quickly.

This it the type of weapon that on Sunday killed an 8-year-old boy, who picked up the gun to fire it at a pumpkin target with his father’s permission, at a gun show in Westfield, Mass.

According to news reports, Christopher Bizilj was fatally wounded in the head when the recoil forced the gun to rotate up and back. His father, preparing to take a picture, was 10 feet behind his son, while a shooting instructor stood beside the boy. The father told reporters he didn’t notice the instructor holding the weapon, which is customary practice to help children steady automatic weapons as they pull the trigger. The father also told reporters that his son had three years’ experience firing handguns and rifles. But this was the first time his son had fired an automatic weapon, and he’d been looking forward to the event for months,

“I gave permission for him to fire the Uzi,” said Dr. Charles Bizilj, medical director of a hospital emergency room. “I watched several other children and adults use it. It’s a small weapon, and Christopher was comfortable with guns. There were larger machine guns with much more recoil, and we avoided those.”

I have no interest in getting in the middle of the U.S. gun control debate, a heated argument between one faction of people who believe gun ownership is about Constitutional rights and the other, who believe guns are the reason our country has one of the highest murder rates in the world. I am certainly in no position to judge a parent for wanting to pass along knowledge of, say, handguns for self-defense or rifles for hunting.

But a machine gun? What are we even doing with LOADED machine guns at gun shows to begin with? Who in America needs a machine gun in their closet? And why oh why should a child EVER be allowed to pick up such a thing?

Gun control laws regarding automatic weapons and assault weapons, machine guns and semi-automatics are as confusing as the guns themselves and vary from state to state. Some states allow machine guns. Some don’t. Massachusetts gun control laws, among the strictest in the nation, allow machine guns, but deem it illegal to “furnish” a child with such a weapon.

As I write, investigators from the state’s Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, as well as Massachusetts legislators, as well as the local District Attorney’s Office, as well as the club that promoted the gun show are trying to figure out exactly what “furnish” means. Some among them are talking about strengthening the laws against such weapons, while others are calling for the boy’s grieving father to be charged with involuntary manslaughter. A former executive board member of the club that sponsored the gun show says he is appalled that the child was ever allowed to hold such a weapon. The Uzi is a particularly difficult gun to control. The club is lucky more people weren’t wounded or killed, he said.

Meanwhile, in an attempt to understand it all myself, I talked to Daniel Vice, senior attorney for the Brady Center to Prevent Gun Violence, a grassroots anti-gun violence organization in Washington , D.C. that will be pushing Massachusetts to pass a law ensuring no child will ever again touch a machine gun.

With all due respect for personal freedom, I asked him why there is any debate at all about a weapon that can kill hundreds of people in one minute.

“We see no possible reason to have military weapons in civilian hands,” Vice said.

Mr. Vice and poor little Christopher Bizilj — they say it for me.

What do you think?

- Debra-Lynn

Sometimes when I see my 12-year-old daughter, Emily, giggling with her friends I flash back to that exuberant, carefree, thrilling stage of life. The pure joy of being with my best friends, talking about girl stuff, and plotting our next bit of mischief.

In this particular instance, Emily and her pals were discussing Halloween. They planned costumes, their trick-or-treat route, and the delicious news that one very kind set of parents (suckers) offered to let the girls have a sleepover at their house since, and this is the best part, Halloween is on a Friday!!!

As I semi-eavesdropped, I couldn’t help but think how sweet it was that even as they talked about the childhood thrill of trick-or-treating, they were painting their toenails. They are so smack dab in the middle of two very different stages. That of being a child and that of being a teenager.

As a parent of a preteen, I’m a bit in the middle myself.

Sometimes I treat my daughter as a child and then she says or does something that yanks me back to reality. After all, she’s more than halfway to being an adult.

Other times, I treat her as emerging teen, only to be reminded of how young she still is in so many ways. Just yesterday there were two examples of this.

Emily hates shots. More than my other children and I think, most other kids. It’s a borderline phobia, since birth really. Even as an infant, she’d scream and scream after shots. My other two daughters would look at me with an “ouch” expression and then happily grab for their Care Bear or whatever other distraction I offered. Anyways, yesterday Emily was talking to a friend at our house about how doctors can come to your house and give you a shot while you’re sleeping if you don’t cooperate in the Dr.’s office.

Her friend looked at her in confusion and said, “Huh?”

I interjected, “Em, that was a lie.”

Don’t judge me. I told her that when she was five-years-old and had to get like three million shots before she could attend Kindergarten. I didn’t realize that she was still carrying that around inside her head.

The other comment happened shortly after. Emily was bending over and her friend jokingly commented, “Don’t do crack” alluding to the droopy jeans revealing a bit too much backside. This time Emily was the one to say, “Huh?”

As her friend filled her in on the double meaning, it became apparent that Emily didn’t know that crack was a form of cocaine. Clearly, we need to do better about discussing drugs ( click here for tips on how to do this) now that Emily is getting older, but I have to admit I love that she is so naïve in so many ways.

But as I mentioned before, she’s edging toward adulthood and picking up momentum. Last week at the dentist’s when her name was called, I stood up, too. Emily looked at me and said, “It’s okay, Mom. You can wait out here.”

“Umm, well, okay.”

Back and forth. Back and forth.

There are other times in life that are in the middle of two stages of life. New jobs, engagements, pregnancies, and relocating are all about leaving one part of life and beginning another. Times to treasure but not ones I’d necessarily want to do again. So much excitement, nervousness, exhilaration and anxiety, all mixed together.

That pretty much sums up adolescence.

-Kay

Police now believe last week’s abduction of a 6-year-old Las Vegas boy was not a random kidnapping ( see story here), but rather was a calculated message from drug dealers to the boy’s grandfather who owes them millions of dollars.

The boy was returned safely, and three people “are of interest” in the case. Meanwhile, the effects reverberate – and not just inside the psyche of a little boy who was taken from his home by people he trusted.

I, for one, saw the headline, “Child Abducted” and automatically recalled the most heavily publicized child-abduction cases in memory, that of 6-year-old Adam Walsh and 12-year-old Polly Klaas. Adam was abducted 27 years ago from a Hollywood, Fla., shopping mall while he played video games at Sears and his mother shopped for a lamp nearby. Polly was stolen from her bedroom 15 years ago during a slumber party at her house in Petaluma, Calif. Both stories engaged empathetic parents across the country, as we imagined how it must feel for one’s child to go missing for weeks, only to be found brutally murdered like Adam was, 16 days later, and Polly, an agonizing two months later. How does a parent ever quit asking: What if? What if I didn’t go shopping that day? What if I hadn’t stepped out of the room at that moment?

I saw the headlines, and I couldn’t help but think of my own 11-year-old son. Although he is the wrong gender, he is the age at which the greatest percentage of stranger abductions occur; 76 percent of stranger abductions are girls just over the age of 11 from middle class neighborhoods, according to the U.S. Department of Justice.

I saw the headlines, and I remembered Saturday morning a few weeks ago. On our way to a college football game in Michigan, our family of five stopped at a large, well-lit rest area on the Ohio Turnpike, one with a Panera Bread, a Starbucks and a Burger King inside. My husband and I went inside to get bagels for the kids.

When we got back to the car, my aforementioned younger son said he had to go to the bathroom. We’d already been inside. There were just a few people there at 10 a.m. on a Saturday. We were parked right in front. We could see inside the place, which was encased in glass walls. We told him to run on in and we’d wait.

Three minutes passed. Four. Five. Six. “I’m going to see where Benjie is,” my husband said, while I stayed in the car. Two minutes after he went inside, my cell phone rang.

“Benjie is not in the bathroom,” my husband said.

For five panicked minutes, we scoured the rest area looking for our son. During those minutes, the thought crossed my mind that I might not be able to live if something happened to Benjie.

And then we heard pounding on a door off to the side of the main restroom.

Benjie had gone to a smaller “family bathroom” and gotten locked in by a sticky door latch.

He was safe.

And I was reminded again. And then again.

Fine Line Between Too Much and Too Little

The line between keeping your child in a bubble and hand-feeding your child to the wolves is a fine one and a judgment call. The fact of the matter is, only a small number of kidnappings constitute the “stereotypical” stranger kidnapping: According to the Department of Justice, 797,500 children younger than 18 were reported missing in 2002. Of those:

- 203,900 children were the victims of family abductions.
- 58,200 children were the victims of non-family abductions.
- 115 children were the victims of the typical stranger kidnapping, involving, “someone the child does not know or someone of slight acquaintance, who holds the child overnight, transports the child 50 miles or more, kills the child, demands ransom, or intends to keep the child permanently.”

From some people’s perspective, the number of stranger kidnappings is not enough to keep a child from riding his bike alone around the neighborhood or going to the nearby elementary school to shoot hoops in the afternoon.

From my perspective, the world is a different place than when I was growing up.

By that, I don’t mean there are more bad people lurking. By that, I mean there are fewer good people watching.

And so I casually and sometimes sternly, depending on the circumstances, remind my son about “stranger danger” (see these helpful Safety Tips). One of my favorites comes from parentingourchildren.com: An adult should never need help from a child. If an adult approaches asking for help finding a dog or locating a house, the child should take heed.

I, for one, let my child go the nearby elementary school to play hoops in the afternoon – but only if he has a friend with him.

I let him ride his bike – but not beyond the cul-de-sac we live on.

No questions asked, no discussion necessary, no need to scare my child. Most of the time I am simply, quietly one of those parents who errs on the side of caution — not always, as was evidenced by the day at the rest area.

Sometimes, I’m afraid, I need reminding.

- Debra-Lynn

If you are like me, you have been pulled into the drama of the upcoming ’08 presidential election. I love it! In addition to the daily soap opera quality of it, I have found that it’s the perfect catalyst for family discussions on our beliefs and values as well as an introduction to government and politics.

It’s no surprise that when 8th graders are polled throughout the United States, the results are almost identical to that of the real election. Parents have a mighty influence on their children and although kids may deny it, they are reflections of their parents in many ways.

This works against parents at times. When I was a teacher, I encountered a parent who was genuinely shocked that his 6-year-old son was using salty language in school. The Dad told me, “I sometimes use those words at home but I thought he knew better.”

Duh.

Until kids morph into teens (and probably even then) they are paying close attention to their parents’ ideas and views. The two presidential candidates have very different opinions about issues that many adults feel strongly about. My husband and I are no exception.

Our 7th grade daughter, Emily, has taken an interest in the debates. Basically, so she can stay up late but it’s also an opportunity for her to absorb a bit of who we are as a family. In addition, we try to demonstrate tolerance and respect for those who are wrong, um, I mean who feel differently.

Some of the obvious issues that may be appropriate for your middle schooler are:
• Big government vs. small government
• Abortion
• Health care (is it a right or a responsibility)
• Gay marriage
• Economy, i.e. how much should “rich” people be taxed to support “poor” people? Relate this to their allowance.
• War

This particular election brings up issues of race and gender, as well. Both Time and Kid’s News Room have good kid websites that discuss current events, including the presidential election.

The debates are also a lesson that even trustworthy adults (except for me, of course) stretch the truth and misrepresent the facts. We are all responsible for verifying information and thinking for ourselves when making big decisions.

As I was discussing this with Emily, I related it hypothetically to two friends trying to convince her to see two different movies. They both really believe in their choice so would probably exaggerate the positive and omit the negative in order to influence her decision. Plus, they may misrepresent their “opponent’s” movie. Ultimately, Emily would have to decide on her own what would be the best choice. Plus, there may be factors such as location, time, and cost, which could further influence her decision.

Emily told me that she’d probably pick the friend she liked, rather than the movie. Sadly, don’t a lot of adults do this when voting? I told Emily it would pretty much stink to sit through a boring movie so it shouldn’t be a personality contest. Not sure she agrees with me but I think she got the point.

Soon enough, Emily will be stepping away from our influence. It is our job as her parents to try to give her a good foundation on which she can make her own future decisions. That means getting her to think for herself, not just accepting the opinions of friends (or her parents, for that matter).

We all know adults who seem to flounder around seemingly without a compass. Not my kid!

-Kay