Child Psychology
Had a brilliant Christmas day with my nephews. We played Mario Kart on the Wii, charades, Monopoly and paper scissors rock. Even though they are only six and almost four, I refuse to patronize them by letting them win, preferring to let them experience the joy that comes from winning fairly and the humility of being well and truly thrashed. As happens every time I see my nephews and young cousins, I start engaging in child psychology, fascinated by how they interact with the world.
For my cousins, six year old twin girls, all the world is a stage — inspired as they are by High School Musical and Hannah Montana — and everyone else is an audience. They don’t actually practice any musical skills, like playing the keyboard or singing, relying instead on force of will to get them through. They are, however, both extremely charming.
My nephews are lucky enough to receive virtually every material possession that they could possibly want for. Ordinarily you might think this would make them spoilt, but they are both polite, good humoured and kind.
As someone who is interested in attention and focus, believing that they can immeasurably improve quality of life, I was heartened to see that the six year old could engage properly in good, old-fashioned, mind-numbingly dull game of Monopoly. His eyes were glazing over by the time I had built my first hotel on Bond Street, but still. Only when the game was insubstantial — like his Brother’s dog shaped vacuum cleaner — did his attention scatter.
Both received a Nintendo DS, which is the most antisocial toy you can imagine. Lost in a world of pixels and finger-tapping, they ignored my psychological probings. Worst thing is, that I was exactly the same when I received an original Gameboy.
In other, Child Psychology related news, I recently heard that Black Box Recorder are back together to play two dates at the Luminaire. After designing sites for John, Luke and Sarah — and enjoying all three of their recent solo records — I can’t wait to hear a fourth studio album.