Our long-winded walking-and-talking sessions also address the socialization challenge the pandemic continues to present, according to Inman. An added bonus: it’s a welcome distraction when the hike starts to get difficult. So even though I don’t understand most of the details he offers up in a half-hour description of how he would design his perfect video game or the layout for his proposed 100,000-square foot townhome, we ask for more information about it. ![]() “Questions prove you are interested in what he is saying and serve as a way for him to dig a bit deeper.” “Listening is a given, but asking him questions is just as important,” says Inman. We also use the hikes to ask Henry questions. I’m thankful that we’ve had the time on our hikes to talk through important and uncomfortable subjects without the interruptions of daily life. Those have spurred discussions about issues like racial inequality and gender identity that might never have taken place while stealing moments between after-school activities and work deadlines in a pre-COVID world. There are also the more serious questions, though, the things we have to talk about to make sense of what’s happening in the world. (The first one was easy to decode the latter required mild obfuscation.) Or: “Why are golden retrievers such bad dogs?” which he asked within earshot of people walking with two of them ( without a leash, of course). That has made for some uncomfortable moments, such as when I had to explain why the internet thinks 420 and 69 memes are so hilarious. The more complex the information, the more his brain works.”Īpparently, we’re doing something right: we try our best to answer all of his queries, and he knows that no topic is off-limits. He’s connecting that new information you provide to what he already knows, understands, or is able to do. So your son’s endless questions strengthen his brain. The gifted brain thrives on novelty and complexity. Athletic sweat looks very different from academic sweat. “For our cardiac health, we know it’s important to do aerobic exercise, complete with sweating, huffing, and puffing. “The brain, like other body parts, needs exercise to stay healthy,” says Tracy Inman, associate director of the Center for Gifted Studies at Western Kentucky University. Given their sudden outsize importance, I had some questions of my own-like, what drives a kid to filibuster like this, and am I doing right by my son in our outdoor classroom? So I reached out to an expert for guidance. Answering them all can feel like too much to bear sometimes, especially when I simply want to admire the changing leaves, listen to a stream roll by, or just not collapse while dragging myself up a slope.īut as the pandemic summer passed by, our hikes have revealed themselves as essential learning experiences and a vital way to stay sane as a family. Like a lot of kids his age, my son asks a lot of questions. Each outing is part extended soliloquy but also part endless Q and A session. These are not quiet, contemplative walks in nature. Fortunately, our family has at least had miles and miles of hikes to fill some of that void on both fronts.īut it has been an adjustment. Parents face the dual tasks of making sure their kids are getting the physical activity they need as well as trying to replace the lost hours of socialization. No team sports, no movies, no museums, no sleepovers, no playdates. The pandemic has eliminated the kind of routine social interaction we’ve all taken for granted. ![]() It’s been a terrible year for all of us, especially kids. “OK, I have to focus on my breathing now, so if I don’t say much, that’s why,” I tell him, feeling like a real jerk for basically announcing to my son that I need a little break from his chatter. You’d better work hard and get a good job,” I reply, checking the dad box by transforming something innocuous into a teachable moment. ![]() ![]() “What do you think? Does that sound like a cool place to live?” he asks. His dream house mostly consists of some pretty swank rooms for playing video games and watching movies, but there is also a chef’s kitchen and pool tucked somewhere into the design. In fact, he hasn’t closed his mouth since we stepped out of the car at the trailhead.įor 90 minutes, Henry’s been describing his ideal home, a stream-of-conscience presentation about a 13-story building in a city somewhere (I think it’s New York there are a lot of details to keep track of). Our only child, 11-year-old Henry, is still talking. It’s a moderately difficult six-mile trail to the top and back, and we’ve just arrived at the final stretch, where the ascent gets steep. My wife and I are about an hour into a hike up Atalaya Peak, a 9,000-foot mountain overlooking our hometown of Santa Fe.
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