Bedtime Stories

Nearly a year ago now, I read Have I Ever Told You How Lucky You Are? by Dr. Seuss to my daughter for the first time. It’s one of the few Dr. Seuss books that we didn’t have when she was smaller (and slightly more docile), and ever since she's been able to grab, she usually won’t let me get through more than two pages or so of any book before she takes over and makes up her own story to go along with the pictures. So, that night she was feeling lazy I guess, and I got to read the whole thing and really experience the message being offered up there. And I’m not really sure what to do with it. The message, I mean.

It starts off with this kid standing near a sort of yogi / meditation guru type – long white hair, robe, whatnot – who, I guess due to his super chill mental Zen, is sitting all cross legged and nonchalant atop a cactus. So the kid’s looking kind of wary as the wise old man starts narrating a story about how he should never complain. Instead, if he gets the urge to complain, he should think about all the other poor suckers in the world who have it worse than he does. The old dude describes all of these scenes to the kid about people who seem, at least to my adult mind and to the stated point of the story, to be pretty screwed in the ridiculous situations they’re in. It’s kind of funny, and completely suits the way people determine the acceptability of their situations based on comparisons with other people (at least I think it’s a pretty general method of self-assessment). If there are enough people worse off than you, you’re doing alright. Right? Just be thankful for what you’re not going through. But sharing this sentiment with my four year old didn’t sit well. Especially because I felt like I was imposing it. At first I thought she just didn’t get it. I mean, she’s a pretty bright kid, but I realized that from the first page she was totally missing the point of this story.

And then I realized that maybe it wasn’t that she didn’t get it, it was just that she didn’t accept it. She’d look at the pictures of the people in these humorous but hopeless situations, and instead of saying, “Wow! Sucks to be that guy. Go me!” she’d start brainstorming with her awesome kid mind about different ways we might be able to help the guy solve his problem. Even the guy on the cactus. On the first page. When she saw him she kind of crinkled up her nose and suggested, “He could just sit on the ground, you know. I bet that cactus has pointy things on top.” And, I mean, right? WTF? Get off the effing cactus! And while you’re at it, stop being satisfied that you’re life doesn’t suck as bad as someone else’s.

Is this how we start training our kids in the complaisance that may be the main obstacle to social progress? I mean, I know you could read this book in a different way, and that children start at a ridiculously early age wanting everything and being completely selfish and not even aware that other people have bigger problems than they do, but must we gratify ourselves with the extremes? I mean, I realize that perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, a cactus needle in your ass is not the worst thing ever, but does that mean you just leave it there? Sit down on a cactus without a care in the world? Might the needles in your ass be distracting you from the ways you could be helping other people with their bigger problems? Could you not, with a modicum of forethought, avoid cacti entirely while working toward the greater good? Or, if not, couldn’t you just pull the needle out of your ass and then go start a recycling campaign or a food drive or something?