Bad Guys

Sullivan's current favorite game is "Bad Wolf." This is where he identifies someone to be the Bad Wolf and it's that person's job to stomp menacingly and say, "Little pig, little pig let me in." His response is to squeal or growl back, clarifying that his growl is from a T-Rex, not a wolf. He often switches who is Bad Wolf mid-game. Or sometimes cries and acts scared, even though he's the one who started it.

He'll also, within the first ten seconds of the character being on screen, point out bad guys on TV. Whether he's seen the show or not, whether the character is meant to be a villain or not, he just knows they are up to no good.

Henry was telling me about a Star Wars character the other day, all his attacks and plan thwarting.
"Why is he being so mean?" I asked.
"He's the bad guy," was the simple answer.

This black and white division really bothers me. The way they so easily separate good and bad. I get that kids (and teens and adults) have to box things up for themselves. It makes it easier in a way. But it doesn't require much thought. And I wanted to have a conversation, at least with Henry, about it all. Since we were in the car and still twenty minutes from home, I decided to go for it.

"You know what I don't love about movies and TV and some books?" I asked him. "That there are bad guys and good guys and they are never the same people. "

I asked if he'd ever done something "bad," something he knew was mean or wrong. He acknowledged he had. "Are you a bad guy?"

"No." he answered right away. "But this guy is always mean to the Jedi," he countered. "He's nice to the storm troopers though."

"I bet if you asked the storm troopers they wouldn't think he was the bad guy," I added, not really knowing much at all about Star Wars, but trying it anyway with Jared shaking his head at my Star Wars ignorance next to me. "We don't really know him, right? Only what you see in movies or the show?" Henry nodded in the rearview mirror. "Okay, what if you were hanging out with Sullivan or your friends being the kind kid that you are and someone came around and did something mean? And maybe you did something mean back. What if someone else only saw the mean thing you did and nothing else. They might think you are mean."

"But I'm not mean. I would tell them that."

"I know you're not, but we all do some not nice things sometimes. And for the people who don't know us, that could be all they know about us." Then, to show how compassionate I was feeling, I brought up Paul LePage. I explained who he is and that I don't know if I've agreed with anything he's ever said. That he is often mean, wastes a lot of time and plays games about really serious stuff. But, the guy had a rough childhood. I give a few examples of this.

"What about toys?" Henry asked. "Did he get any on his birthdays?"

I explain how lots of families can't afford toys and how LePage didn't really even live with his family so there weren't a lot (or any) people who showed love like giving birthday presents.

"I can't imagine how I would feel if I didn't have people who love me around me all the time. And I had to worry about food and where I would sleep. I bet that would make me really sad and scared and angry."

"Me, too." Henry practically whispers this.

"That doesn't make what he does okay. But maybe I can try to understand a little better why he's so mad all the time."

And, just so I wouldn't start feeling too proud of myself for having hard conversations with my 5-yr-old, he responded "Are we almost home?"