Mediate Michigan

At 7, my son loves to read. One day earlier this year, he was flipping through the pages of a children’s encyclopedia from the 1990s. He stopped at a glossy photo of the New York skyline that included two enormous buildings he’d never seen. His voice piped up from the car seat behind me: “Mom, you’ve got to see these two buildings. They’re huge!”

I didn’t have to look. I hesitated, looking for the right combination of facts and guidance. “They used to be downtown,” I said slowly. I had no idea where to go next.

He waited for more, but got nothing. Finally: “Mom, why aren’t those two towers there anymore?”

“There was … a couple of years before you were born … it’s hard to…”

Awkward silence filled the car. “Wait,” he said. “What?”

My response, just two words, made me ashamed of myself.

“It’s complicated.”

Seven years into motherhood, I thought the hardest questions were behind me. My son knows I was married to someone else before I met his dad. He knows that his elderly and fragile grandparents may not live too many more years. He knows there is no Santa Claus and likes being in on the joke. And our conversation about how babies are made wasn’t awkward — because he’s not old enough to realize it could be.

It’s the one piece of parenting I was sure I had down: My kid asks me something and, no matter how difficult the subject, I answer on the spot with honesty leavened by tact.

Or, at least, I thought I did.

“It’s complicated.” That was the best I could do? We pulled into the supermarket parking lot in our Pittsburgh suburb, and I told him we were running late and needed to hurry. Neither of us said anything for the next few minutes. So much for being the mom who tackles the tough stuff.

via How do I teach my son about 9/11? – 9/11 – Salon.com.