"What's the outline, mom?" my daughter asked during School-Home project.
"Well," I needed to think fast while answering her, "whenever you do the presentation, you need to make it or draw it in a clear order so that listeners can follow easily."
I try my best to explain in every situation like this, but I always feel there is something missing. Mom doesn't know everything, and that's an universal answer, but I have certain desire that I wish to answer every questions my daughter asks.
"Mom," she excitedly called me, "do you see? I wrote Mudpuppy all by myself!"
I just looked at her and smiled. Few weeks ago I read an article from some Parenting magazine. To teach our children a value of resilience, we shouldn't praise or compliment them too often. When they did a great job, we need to compliment their hard effort on the process rather than the result. I thought it was so true.
"Because it was so hyperactive that it couldn't stay still for the camera." I answered.
"Mom," she continued her questions, "why cleanwater fish can't live in the dirty water?"
"Well," I hesitated for a moment, "because they are so sensitive that they can't survive in the yucky water." I wished I could give her a better explanation, but this was all I could think of.
"Mom," she asked, "this snake is so scary, but why is it so important?"
"Because," I thought quickly about the description at the museum, "snakes can help the balance of our ecosystem." I was quite proud of answering this question, until there was a follow-up question, "what's ecosystem?"
I had to change the subject. I could have said we will find the definition later today, but I was too exhausted by her questions already. I needed a break. Maybe tomorrow, when I have clear mind, if I can have any, then I will search for it. We'll see.