Don’t Touch My Child! Lessons from Asia

The American psyche is still reeling 33 years after the disappearance of little Etan Patz on his neighborhood corner. Kids have never been more coddled and cooped up. Activities like biking to school, which were once commonplace, now risk getting parents reported to social services, publicly ostracized, thrown in jail and on occasion nearly punched out by well-meaning grannies.

Is Our Fear Founded? 

Every successive generation of technology along with the widespread adoption of social media means we are now, more than ever, aware of potential dangers. Couple this with competing media outlets battling it out for viewers, and we have a very distorted view of the threats facing our children today.

This article was written for  In Culture Parent. To continue reading please click here.

Bedtime Stories: Olivia & the Countdown to Getting Busted!

This post was inspired in part by Carl Honoré’s wonderful talk at PopTech on his book In Praise of Slowness – specifically the temptation of the one-minute bedtime story. Someday my girls will thank him. For thanks to him I take a deep breath and remember to embrace the bedtime moment.


This is Olivia.

She is good at lots of things.

She is good at wearing me out

…since my daughter will only let me read this book to her. She doesn’t wear my daughter out.

Olivia lives with her mother, her father, her brother,

and two pets Perry and Edwin whose names really don’t work well in French.

When Olivia gets dressed, she has to try on everything.

That’s 17 outfits, many of which could be called different things: sweater, jumper, turtleneck or ball-gown, opera-gown, evening-gown, opera dress… And if mummy doesn’t get it just right, Olivia’s #1 Fan reprimands me and makes me start over.

Every day Olivia is supposed to take a nap.

Mummy hates this page because how do you translate “It’s time for your you-know-what” to French? And what about the implied lack of obedience with the next dancing two-page spread headed

Of course Olivia’s not at all sleepy.

#1 Fan loves these 2 pages. “She’s dancing!”

On rainy days, Olivia likes to go to the Museum. There is one painting Olivia just doesn’t get.

– a Jackson Pollock so Olivia is clearly in good company.

“I could do that in about five minutes,” she says to her mother.

#1 Fan’s mother worries that she will also try it at home.

Time Out (and again this in French?!)

“Time out on the naughty steps” echoes #1 Fan.  Maybe I will be saved by #1’s glee at seeing others punished?

After a nice bath,
and a nice dinner,

Mummy wonders why they couldn’t have included some vegetables here.

it’s time for bed.
“But of course Olivia’s not at all sleepy”

Again sowing the seeds of discord.

“Only five books tonight, Mummy” she says.

Followed by:

Well Olivia’s really pushing it. And her mother – I mean what kind of example is she setting? Olivia can’t be more that four or five. Is she negotiating with a four-year-old? And who gets the better deal – they settle on THREE? Right there in black and white, the message:

Children, bug your parents and you will get your way.

Mummy’s adjusted version:

“No Olivia, just one.”
“How about four?”
“One.”
“Three.”
“No Olivia. Just one
and that’s it.”

#1 Fan currently recites this ending along with me. But it is only a matter of time before I am busted.

 Night night Olivia. Tomorrow, same time, same place.

Pea, Pee, Pipi and where it all comes from

There is much debate on when one should start potty training. I have some friends… well a friend who have successfully used “elimination communication” -though I’ll suggest lovingly that she has too much time on her hands to friends who say don’t even bother trying until your child is two and a half. This post isn’t to debate this but the role language plays.

What I realized is that in order for me to consider even starting the potty training process, my daughter needed to be able to put words to it. One could argue that signs would have also worked and given our success using them for other things, I might have pushed this a bit more.

Pacifique (aka Pea) was definitely slow to talk; many say it is because she is being brought up in a trilingual household and this may or may not be true. When she finally did start speaking and body parts and functions entered our terribly limited conversations -if you could even call them that- I quickly realized that she wasn’t differentiating between her ‘bits” and what came out of them.

She would gleefully shout Pipi Pipi to which I would then wonder “do I ask her if she needs to go or has she gone?”. By the time I would whisk off her diaper and realize she was just rejoicing in her newly discovered vagina and the act of peeing couldn’t be further from her mind. Soon after I figured out that Pipi was also being used by her to describe her bum and basically anything related to this area. This was going to be a problem.

After I finally decided on what to call the bits and I wont go into my indecisiveness which no doubt added to her confusion, I tried to focus the words on the acts themselves – in my case the french expression to go “Pipi et Popo”. It became immediately apparent that she then started using Pipi to describe the act of pooping which of course should be Popo. SIGH. So my next idea was to ascribe colors to the acts.

“Ma cherie, le pipi est jaune et le popo est marron” (Pee is yellow, poop is brown) was often heard in our household to which she would reply “pipi, popo, pipi marron, pipi marron”. What can I say, she was obsessed with the fact that Pipi was actually poop and was brown.

This persisted for WEEKS until, I couldn’t believe it, a breakthrough just before her new sister was born when she very matter of fact turned to me on one bathroom expedition and said “pipi amarillo, popo marron” or pipi yellow, poo brown!! I might have fallen over but fortunately I was sitting on the loo.

Things seemed to be finally turning around until her sister was born and she peered into Claude’s newborn diaper and looked at me and said.. accurately ” popo amarillo!” Sigh. 1 step forward, 2 steps back.

To anyone without kids yet, newborn breast fed babies have mustard yellow poop. Toilet training can wait just a bit longer and when we do start, I want a potty like the one below.