You probably already know that my husband and I try to find fun ways to teach our kids life lessons (Experiments In: Watching What You Say). Another of these was the Stairs Experiment. It's one of my favorites.
You must have or find some stairs. The only requirement is that the portion of staircase you use be higher than the tallest kid - he can't be able to reach the top by reaching from standing at the bottom. After you find an adequately high staircase, about 4-5 steps or so, put your husband (brother, mom, dad, sister, friend) at the top. Just standing there. They are to not talk; say nothing, just stand there quietly.
We put Daddy at the top. I gathered all of the children at the bottom of the staircase.
I showed them a $10 bill. I waved it around a little. I'm like that.
Then I told them, "First one to reach the top of the stairs where Daddy is waiting without touching any part of the staircase, including the walls, railing, steps, etc., gets the ten dollars."
Now, you may think that the kids would just stop and say that this is impossible and then it's over. I've done this experiment many times, and every single time the kids try to figure out how to get up there. Particularly if you have older kids. They even put their heads together to collaborate - something I tell them they are certainly welcome to do. You'll see why. ;-) They will jump, hop, try to fly (this is why it's important the landing at the top is taller than the tallest child).
And inevitably... "We give up! There's no way to reach the top. It's impossible!"
I turned to Daddy, waiting patiently and silently at the top of the stairs, and said, "Come down and pick up Ty." My husband walked down the stairs, picked Ty up and piggybacked him up the stairs - without Ty touching any part of the staircase, including the walls, railing, and steps. Then he went down and piggybacked every kid up the stairs.
I called them back down, gathered them together, and told them, "Sometimes in life, when you need to do something difficult, you will need help. You will need someone else to carry you through it."
In our house, Daddy represented God, and we told our children to rely on Him. To allow Him to carry them through the tough stuff, up those hills of life. But we also reminded them that, along with allowing God to carry them, they would also need to rely on parents, siblings, grandparents, friends, teachers, mentors, doctors, nurses, etc., to carry them through.
Allowing other people to help me, personally, has always been a unique challenge. Type-A people don't like that very much (#understatement). Giving my kids a visual, experiential view of this was important to me. Even though I was on the "giving" end of this experiment, I still bring up the picture in my mind when I need to let go and allow God and others to help carry me through the valleys.
Well, that and my kids, having learned this lesson well, always come carry me out.
When my kids were growing up, I would try to find fun ways to teach life lessons. One of these was The Toothpaste Experiment. I have performed this experiment many times to many groups at many ages. It's timeless. And I'm betting many of you even know what I'm talking about and have performed this experiment, too! This is how it's done:
We sat our 5 kids at the dining room table and put paper plates in front of them. We sat travel-size tubes of toothpaste on the paper plates.
"Okay, kids, now open the toothpaste and squeeze out as much toothpaste as you can get out of the tubes." Having no idea whether this was the "contest" part, they squeezed and squeezed until they couldn't get anything else out of the tube.
"Are you done? Did you get it all out?" I was assured they did.
"Okay..........first one to get all of the toothpaste back in the tube gets ice cream! All of it - not one drop can be outside the tube."
There were some determined little faces as they tried their best to get that icky sticky stuff back inside the little hole. Toothpaste covered the paper plates and their hands up to their wrists - and sometimes their faces as they scratched their heads trying to figure this out.
At some point, everyone will give up. We all know it's impossible to get all of the toothpaste back into, well, anything.
As I passed out damp towels, I explained. "Just like you can't get that toothpaste back into that tube, once you say something out of your mouth, you can't suck it back in, either. You must be very careful of what you say to people - to their face or someone else. You must be careful what you say about people - to others or on the internet. You cannot take those words back. You cannot suck them back into your mouth. And...and this is the hard one...you must be careful about what you think about people, as this will eventually form your words.
Those are the things you can't do, but what if you do hurt someone with your words? You must ask for forgiveness. No exceptions. And it doesn't at all matter whether you intended to hurt them or not. If your words hurt them, you've hurt them, no matter your intentions.
Now, let's go get that ice cream and chat about this."
And we'd go to Baskin-Robbins, order crazy-colored cones (only children can eat bubblegum ice cream with actual gum inside stacked on top of fudge brownie), and have some of the best conversations around those tiny round tables that are never big enough (right?). "Janie said something that hurt me. Does this mean I can go make her ask for forgiveness?" "What about if I'm repeating what someone else said? Does that count as me hurting someone?" "What if somebody takes my words wrong?" "Can I have more ice cream?"
I have done this experiment while teaching Sunday school, youth groups, and the varsity cheer squad at cheer camp. Though I will admit that, the older your subjects, the more creative they will get with trying to get the toothpaste back in the tube (make sure to give uber-clear instructions that ALL of the toothpaste has to be back in the tube and that they cannot rip open the tube to get it back in and that using the stuff that's left to make lipstick doesn't count as "creative points"), everyone - everyone - will get the message at the end.
And, most importantly, they'll remember it. "That was a toothpaste moment, wasn't it Mama?" Yep, baby, it was.
I'm kinda obsessed right now with the idea of not having to agree with everything (or, really, anything) someone else says. Yes, the presidential election is highlighting this, but I've always been obsessed with this concept. You know how all mothers have certain things they emphasize to their kids - and each mother has her own buttons? Mine are, in no particular order: Lying, giving back to the community, loyalty, manners, and learning how to disagree.
Kids come home with the weirdest ideas, whether heard on the internet or on the playground:
"Mama, the Wright brothers were afraid of heights!"
"Did you know we've never actually been to the moon?"
"Dad! Burps are contagious!"
"Did you know cat fur is an ice cream flavor in China?!"
At a certain age (*koff koff* middle school!), you canNOT convince the kids these things aren't true. So, after trying ("Seriously, honey, Chinese children don't lick cat fur."), and after being shot down ("But MOM. Joey heard it from Julia who's aunt actually WENT to China."), I would simply say, "Hmmm. That's interesting." NOT have a huge screaming argument with a prepubescent child in the middle of the kitchen.
So whyWHY do adults do this with each other?! I have several adult children now. We have the best debates about, well, everything. My oldest told me just last week, after discussing the last presidential debate in which we didn't really agree on much but had a fantastic conversation, that he tells his friends he loves discussing politics and religion with his parents. Strange concept. I'm not saying this to pat myself on the back - simply to say that, if I can have these conversations with my children, with whom I disagree on much, whyWHY can't this happen on a regular basis with my friends?
You love Romney? Tell me why and I'll think that's interesting. You think Obama is the bomb? Tell me why and I'll think that's interesting. You are an Independent and think the system stinks? I want to learn more. I never know what I'll learn from you, so tell me what you think. Seriously. At the end of that conversation, maybe you'll be interested in what I think.
It could happen.
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