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The innocence of a child

Published by Cecile on Monday, January 7th, 2008

I’m sure you’ve asked your parents at least once what kind of child you were when you were younger. I did so quite a few times and it has always added funny anecdotes and interesting characteristics to my personality and my understanding of it. According to my parents, I’ve always been stubborn, loud, funny and tomboyish. Oh joy.

But the most interesting thing I’ve ever heard about my own or anybody else’s childhood, is what my mum told me lately. She stated that the best time of childhood is when the child is between seven and ten years old. Apparently before the age of seven you are still so naïve and immature that you see no harm in anything and know nothing about the world. After your tenth birthday, you start puberty during which you become grumpy and confused regularly. The result is a grownup and your childhood is over. But between seven and ten the glory years occur. It’s the age when you know enough about the world to have a decent conversation, but aren’t aware of the ugly side of life. You are a cheerful individual, which is a joy to both you, the child, and the parents.

I was impressed by my mother’s analysis and tried to remember as much as possible of my own childhood to recall that cheerful period of my life. Sadly, I can’t remember the moment the toddler Cecile turned into the carefree happy child Cecile. But I do remember the day the lounging and sprawling was over. Because it was the first day I became aware of the weird, cruel and antisocial behaviour people tend to display.

I was probably indeed ten or so. My mum had a job someplace where she used to go to by bike. One day something was wrong with the lock of her bicycle. The key got broken or lost, I can’t remember. In any case, the result was a bike that wouldn’t ride because it had a stuck lock on it. My mum had come back home walking or by bus and my parents decided to go back there and saw through the lock. Or maybe she phoned my dad to ask him to come over. I came along too, although I don’t know why I had to be there. It was cold I think: in my mental picture of the event both my parents wear thick winter jackets and my mum is wearing a woollen bonnet.

So there we were, a family of three, in the cold, trying to saw through a bike lock together. I recall my mum’s face. Even though it was her very own bike, she looked uncomfortable and somewhat ashamed. At first I didn’t understand: nothing wrong or illegal was going on, was there? But then a few people passed by. They looked at us and one of them even mumbled audible: “How sad, stealing a bike in broad daylight with the entire family watching…”

They were just murmurs, but they cut through me like a knife. Suddenly I understood my mother’s embarrassment. I remember thinking:
“Why are these people expressing disapproval of a very logical situation? How come they instantly conclude the most negative explanation of the situation possible? Why do they bother to comment on us anyway? And if they think their opinion is so very important and relevant, how come they don’t stop for a second and ask my mum what the hell is going on?”
I’m not sure whether I thought these thoughts exactly like this (I was only ten, after all), but at least it had been something similar to my just-made quotation.

From then on I knew. I knew there were some weird, cynical and dislikeable people out there. I knew that even though you try to live in a moral and good way, life could still sneak up on you and bite you in the leg or spit you in the face. That day marks the end of my childhood and the beginning of my puberty.

How about you? Think back about your own childhood. Do you remember being more or less carefree? And do you recall the moment you realised the world actually had a few grim sides you’d have to learn to deal with?

I sometimes wish I could go back to that feeling. Living without having to think twice about someone’s intentions, without being afraid of what others may think of you. I never realised before: this is what they must mean with the ‘innocence of a child’.

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3 Comments on “The innocence of a child”

i wish i remembered more from my childhood. but my mom does remember that around 12 i became a little more bitter by the day. so i must have figured it out at some point. lol

As a mom of a 15-year-old, I have to say every age has its joys and complications. The beauty of his age now is that we can actually have real conversations about the world and what’s going on and we can appreciate each other’s humor.

When I was 15, I hit a dark wall, and spent a few years soul-searching and struggling. I was unhappy with what I saw happening around me. Whereas before I wanted to save the world, I started to wonder if the world was even worth saving!

When you get to be my age, you realize that a lot of the crap you worried about when you were younger — like what people think of you — really is crap. You can learn to let it go and be more comfortable in your skin. You don’t regain innocence, but you can allow yourself more innocent pleasures. That’s pretty darn cool.

I think my transformation from a sweet pinch your cheeks innnocent to a dried up cynical old husk was so sudden (but yet so smooth) even my mother was taken by surprise. I dont believe there was any one key event that triggered the change, just one day her bright bubbly girlie was there, the next a sulking dramatic pouter with the world on her shoulders.

And that was just last week.

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