magical realism

Piaget talked about our initial understanding of the world as "magical realism." When we're little, we accept non-rational explanations (by adult standards) of the world and how it works, as long as the explanations make sense to us--as long as they follow an internal logic of their own. Subsequent developmentalists have nitpicked Piaget's research and argued that his theory doesn't adequately explain the mechanisms by which development occurs, yada, yada, yada. And I guess they do have a point.

However, I don't think that we can argue his point that children see the world in ways that are fundamentally different than the ways that adults see it. And once we grow past that perspective, there's no getting it back, short of the use of mind-altering drugs.

For example, Ginny asked me this morning whether Cinderella's mice were really helpful, or whether she was just saying they helped with the chores to keep from hurting their feelings. Because if you watch them, they actually cause her lots of problems. (This was Ginny's point.)

I had to tell her the other day that the Big Bad Wolf was just pretend. I expected this revelation to make her feel better, but her next tearful question suggested otherwise: so what other stories that you've told me are just pretend? Are the Jesus stories just pretend too? And Ramona? Enter the backtracking adult...

I suppose we all tell ourselves stories to explain the world around us, to provide comfort, to take the hurtful edges off a painful experience. Who's to say that, in the end, these gentle fictions aren't real? Jesus said to let the little children come to him--but I doubt they had as far to go as we do...

PS--the painting is Ginny's rendition of Noah's Ark. V. cool, in my opinion. But then, we've already established that I think my kids are geniuses, hee hee.