As a child, everything was new and magical for me. Until I was at least three or four, I couldn’t tell the real from the make-believe. In books, animals were all cute and able to talk just like people. Learning that people actually ate animals for food was mind-blowing. People were cannibals. I refused meat.

Fairytales were often horror stories that gave me nightmares. In my dreams, I saw wolves eating grandmas and giants being slain. It broke my heart when Bambi’s mom and dad died. What would I do if something happened to my own parents?  

It wasn’t all bad. Mom read stories about Tom Thumb and Tinker Bell. I went outside searching for the little people. When I saw a preying mantis in an upright position, why wouldn’t I believe I’d discovered a little green man? I must have been close to five when I became convinced my doll would be more fun if she was alive. I thought if I prayed hard enough, God would surely bring her to life for me and Mom could take care of her, because I needed a sister.

Years later, when my daughter screamed at night and told me she had been riding in a rowboat with a skeleton, I understood as I offered her comfort. Adjusting to the real world can be a jarring experience. Time quickly erases these early traumas, but who knows how long our subconscious might dwell on them.

Children have a sense of logic which tends to undermine what we try to teach them. A friend wanting her grandchildren to learn about God gave them a teddy bear with the words “What would Jesus Do?” written across his chest. When the girls began a tug of war over a toy both wanted, she asked the three-year-old, “Nicole, what would Jesus do?”  Without hesitating, the child responded in no uncertain terms, “He would tell me I need to hit her.”

Children may mature earlier now than they did when I grew up. I had no television, computer, or virtual reality to contend with. I tend to think these things must further complicate the separating of fact from fiction. Seeing is no longer a criterion for believing. Could that be why the younger generation seems so susceptible to believing things they find when going down the conspiracy rabbit holes on the net?

I find it alarming that now many children are told they should feel free to chose whatever sex they might feel they would like to be. I can only imagine what a burden having that responsibility dumped on a young mind might entail. If someone had offered me a doll or a firetruck to see which way I leaned at age three, I might never have grown up to be a mom. Firetrucks that roll and have sirens and flashing red lights are a lot more fun than a doll that only says “Mama” and has to have its diaper changed.

Growing up in the modern world is like navigating a series of challenges designed to weed out the faint of heart. No wonder psychiatry is a lucrative profession. Childhood has never been all fun and games, but still, I’m glad I got mine over with many years ago.