“How much longer before we get there, Daddy?” whines my daughter Eliza, 5, from the back seat of my car, as I drive her to school. It takes about an hour to make the trip from where I live in North Jersey.
When Eliza was just learning to ask such a question, I would say, (depending on where we were going) “10 minutes, sweetheart,” or “half an hour,” as we adults tend to speak when telling time. However, her responses were very telling: “Daddy, I want to get there! I wish it took 80 minutes!” or “I want it to take TWO HOURS!”
After a brief chuckle to myself about this, I thought through why she would say higher numbers every time, when she wanted less. At first I thought it was only that she didn’t have any idea what numbers and times meant (an obvious thing to suppose), but the more I thought about it (and yes, she’s a pretty astute child, and always has been) I realized that she DID mean more. I guessed that she didn’t mean that she wanted more time in the car, but that she wanted more quickness, as if a higher number would get us there faster.
I teach lessons, run rehearsals, and do coachings, and they usually come in half-hour and one-hour time blocks. Because of this, I have gained a very (usually!) accurate sense of when those times have elapsed. I know what it’s like to have a quick half-hour session with a brilliant singer, and what it’s like to have to hunker down and slog through a one-hour piano lesson with a child who hasn’t practiced in weeks. However, what could I use to communicate time to my (then) two-year-old? It was around that time that we started watching “Wonder Pets,” “Elmo’s World,” and other kid shows on TV.
As any parent will often want to do (and admit it, you have!), I would sometimes try to catch a nap in the middle of the day, while putting on an interesting, if not slightly educational, video for Eliza, saying, “I’m gonna take a quick nap, and will play with you after “Wonder Pets” is over. Eliza’s response was, “One Wonder Pets, or two?” (“Wonder Pets” had a two 15-minute episode format for every “show.”) That’s when I realized that she did have an idea of what passing time was like, because she could predict what it felt like to watch a television show of varying length.
I tried it out in the car, and we were soon able to take short or long road trips without many “WHEN ARE WE GOING TO GET THERE??” moments.
Now, Eliza is better at understanding actual times on the clock, and we’ve started listening to musicals and pop albums in the car, but for fun, what started out as a simple, “We’ll be there in a single Wonder Pets story,” or, “Honey, it’s a long trip, about as long as ‘Elmo In Grouchland’,” has evolved to, “We’ll be there in 2 CD’s time,” or “It’s a REALLY long trip…about a ‘Les Miz,’ and half an ‘Oliver.’”
So Eliza's trip to school, when it's my turn to drop her off, is: "Exactly one Secret Garden away," and I put on the CD for us to enjoy through the drive.
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