Plan B Forum

As I look back on it, I think I was about 6 years of age when I asked my grandfather what some odd looking lump on the side of a certain tree was.

He replied matter of factly that it was once a cat, but it tried to climb this particular tree that turns cats into these things.

So for quite a few years I avoided that tree. I wasn’t afraid to be near it, but I didn’t want to touch it in case it thought I was some sort of cat.

Something brought that memory back to me and I began to go through a floodgate of stupid answers some adult gave me for a perfectly reasonable question.

Why do adults do that to children?

Is the reason we like children largely based on our ability to play with their heads?

You might not have had reason to fear a tree, but chances are your parents told you about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy.

Why?

Why do adults prefer to explain the world in fantasy when the truth could be as intriguing and far more useful?

Had my grandfather told me that it was a toadstool and that its existence on a healthy tree was perplexing to him, I might have developed an interest in biology and be less fearful of trees that have icky things on them.

Generally if you give them the correct answer they just look at you and say Huh?

Giving them a false answer then allowing them to come to the real conclusion helps with problem solving as they get older.

However in your case I think your grandfather just wanted to screw with your head.

I think it worked.

Now if a kid does something really well as an adult we should say "aw you were just lucky kid" that way they don't get an attitude and we instill a "good" lucky feeling in them...

At least you got an answer tyro. I recall some of the messing with my head was designed to leave me thinking I shouldn't have asked in the first place.

My dad frequently loved to look across the expressway and exclaim, "Look at that car!"

I replied in the manner I'd been taught, "What car?"

My dad could then fluster and taunt my foolishness, "Pfft, that car don't you see it!?"

I did in fact, see all the cars and eventually realized I'd been asking the wrong question. The next time he cried, "Look at that car!" I replied "Which one?" This completely floored him, "Upf, well... " and his game was ruined, so he never asked it again.

Every time we used to drive* down the M4 motorway, my father would tell me; "Your uncle won and award for designing that bridge", as we passed under a flyover.

I must have been about 17 before I realised;

a) It was different bridge each time.
b) I didn't have any uncles capable of designing, well.... anything really.... as they were all thick as pigshit.
c) I'd been telling my mates the same thing for the past few years, and soon they were going to have the same realisation as me, and take the piss mercilessly out of me.






*or rather be driven down the M4 motorway, as no one in my family drove, or owned a car, and we had to scrounge lifts everywhere.

Seeing as you're adopted it'd hard to prove it wasn't your uncle ;D

little kristina: "Daddy, how much longer until we get to Grandma's?"

little kristina's father: "Once we've gone over six humps and a hollow." (I don't think that "hump" had the meaning for my father that it does for many...)

It took me years to figure out that there needed to be roughly corresponding numbers of humps and hollows...

Crackpot wrote:Seeing as you're adopted it'd hard to prove it wasn't your uncle ;D

Now you're accusing my father of subtly? FMP!

'Cause they believe us?

I do it 4 teh lulz.

Because we can..............

Messing with kids heads is longstanding tradition passed on from one generation to the next.

I mess unmercifully with my nephew's kids, [proud great auntie mode]one of whom is getting ready to go to college on a baseball scholarship[/proud great auntie mode]. Their stories about me how I messed with them are their favorite ones to tell. It's fabulous to have an eccentric in your life. I am glad I was there to provide that for them.

When I was little and we had fruit cocktail with dinner I loved the little cherry bits that were more rare than the other pieces. My father would tell me to cover my eyes and say, "Oh little people oh little people, give me another cherry." I would do it and another cherry would appear in my dish. I was oddly sceptical about these things btw and never bought into the who Santa Clause and Tooth Fairy bits. In fact I can't recall ever really believing in Santa, but did understand that it was important to go along with it in the interest of getting more presents. I got $5 for teeth, an absolutely exorbitant sum in the '60's, so no way was I going to let them know I was onto them. Oh and the little people thing, it was only within the last 2 years that I learned my father's grandmother was Irish, as in off the boat from Ireland. That might explain where my dad came up with that bit.

This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you...........................WHAP.....went the belt.

As Miles said, because we can.

My dad had a birth defect that left one leg about 6" shorter than the other. His leg was normal from hip to midcalf, then sharply indented, then was normal again. He told me that when he was a young boy he was run over by a truck - the doctors simply cut out the shattered part and reattached the ankle and foot. I believe it for years.

Lies about the existence of certain things comes from adults wanting to appear 'all-knowing' to their children.

You don't want to be seen as fallible, so you make something up to fit.

There was a classic advert run in Oz for an ISP.

Go see ....



Nowadays if the Hatch asks me a question I don't know the answer to I tell her it was "to keep the rabbits out".