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it's just the principle of the thing
Aug. 6th, 2007 09:42 pmI went on a Duck Tour today, with my little monster cousins and their parents and grandparents. (I did get motion-sick, but not sick enough to throw up. Drowsy formula Dramamine really does work better than the less-drowsy stuff I used for years.) Going along with the tour was a sociable thing for me to do, and I think it made my aunt very happy.
The little monster cousins were very excited about the tour. Their father bought them both ducky noisemakers--they're shaped vaguely like duckbills, and a person blows into them to make a loud quack. There was a great deal of quacking and being shushed in the hour before the tour left. As well, the 9-year-old girl (who appears to be a bit less monstrous than she once was) had a little souvenier stuffed animal shaped like a duck. Her little brother had a toy truck shaped vaguely like a military amphibious vehicle. It was not a well made toy truck, and he was not happy with it, complaining about wheels not turning and so forth. Finally, we were on the tour vehicle, and the driver had a pleasantly distracting line of patter. The kids got to quack at passers-by, and the driver even let them come up front and take the wheel for a few minutes, when the boat was in the middle of the river. My easygoing geek cousins took lots of pictures.
Back at the Museum of Science after the tour, we looked at the traveling exhibit about Jane Goodall and the chimps. (This is awfully cool, and if you have any interest at all in such things, you should go. It's a traveling exhibit which will be gone at the end of the month.) The little boy put down his toy truck, probably so he could hold "gorilla arm extensions" with both hands, and walk around like a gorilla. Still quacking absent-mindedly with every breath, as he had the quacker in his mouth. An hour later, getting ready to leave, the group took inventory of things as well as people, and realized the toy truck was gone. It could not be found. Maybe another child saw it abandoned on the floor, and took it.
Tantrum. Weeping and wailing and gnashing of baby teeth. The child now said he could not live without the toy, so of course he would not leave the museum peacably and go to the car. He was having quite a battle of wills with his father about this, while his grandparents and I stayed back out of the way.
His grandmother said to me, quietly, "We ought to just get him another truck."
Me: "But he didn't even like it. He was complaining about it most of the time he was paying attention to it. As soon as he gets it home, it's going to turn into clutter and he won't play with it."
His grandmother: "That doesn't matter. He cares about it now, so he ought to have it now. It's just the principle of the thing."
Me: "What principle?"
Her: "Somebody took it from him. If it wasn't for that person being dishonest, he would still have it. So it needs to be replaced. It's a souvenier, it doesn't matter if he never plays with it again."
The boy is 6, and I've been thinking of him as a little monster for years. I don't feel responsible for teaching him civilized values. Nevertheless. Nevertheless, if I were trying to teach him any principles or values at all, I would not want to teach that kind of privilege and consumerism. If a beloved toy had been stolen out of his hands, I would replace it...but I would not want him to think he was entitled to the replacement. In this situation, the toy did not have great sentimental value, and it was not really stolen, so I don't see how it could be principled to replace it.
The little monster cousins were very excited about the tour. Their father bought them both ducky noisemakers--they're shaped vaguely like duckbills, and a person blows into them to make a loud quack. There was a great deal of quacking and being shushed in the hour before the tour left. As well, the 9-year-old girl (who appears to be a bit less monstrous than she once was) had a little souvenier stuffed animal shaped like a duck. Her little brother had a toy truck shaped vaguely like a military amphibious vehicle. It was not a well made toy truck, and he was not happy with it, complaining about wheels not turning and so forth. Finally, we were on the tour vehicle, and the driver had a pleasantly distracting line of patter. The kids got to quack at passers-by, and the driver even let them come up front and take the wheel for a few minutes, when the boat was in the middle of the river. My easygoing geek cousins took lots of pictures.
Back at the Museum of Science after the tour, we looked at the traveling exhibit about Jane Goodall and the chimps. (This is awfully cool, and if you have any interest at all in such things, you should go. It's a traveling exhibit which will be gone at the end of the month.) The little boy put down his toy truck, probably so he could hold "gorilla arm extensions" with both hands, and walk around like a gorilla. Still quacking absent-mindedly with every breath, as he had the quacker in his mouth. An hour later, getting ready to leave, the group took inventory of things as well as people, and realized the toy truck was gone. It could not be found. Maybe another child saw it abandoned on the floor, and took it.
Tantrum. Weeping and wailing and gnashing of baby teeth. The child now said he could not live without the toy, so of course he would not leave the museum peacably and go to the car. He was having quite a battle of wills with his father about this, while his grandparents and I stayed back out of the way.
His grandmother said to me, quietly, "We ought to just get him another truck."
Me: "But he didn't even like it. He was complaining about it most of the time he was paying attention to it. As soon as he gets it home, it's going to turn into clutter and he won't play with it."
His grandmother: "That doesn't matter. He cares about it now, so he ought to have it now. It's just the principle of the thing."
Me: "What principle?"
Her: "Somebody took it from him. If it wasn't for that person being dishonest, he would still have it. So it needs to be replaced. It's a souvenier, it doesn't matter if he never plays with it again."
The boy is 6, and I've been thinking of him as a little monster for years. I don't feel responsible for teaching him civilized values. Nevertheless. Nevertheless, if I were trying to teach him any principles or values at all, I would not want to teach that kind of privilege and consumerism. If a beloved toy had been stolen out of his hands, I would replace it...but I would not want him to think he was entitled to the replacement. In this situation, the toy did not have great sentimental value, and it was not really stolen, so I don't see how it could be principled to replace it.
