Streetlight Magazine just published this essay. You can read it HERE.

Longer version below:

My four-year-old granddaughter, Zoe, and her seven-year-old brother, Henry, (names changed) live out-of-state. We often meet via Zoom. We share a screen and explore their burning questions by searching YouTube videos.

            Henry is interested in science, sort of. For a while, he wanted to watch presentations about black holes, natural disasters, and the multiverse. Now he’s moved on to the human body. He has questions like, what happens if you eat a worm? Or the latest, what happens if you never cut your fingernails? Diana Armstrong holds the record for the longest fingernails, 21 feet per hand. She can’t pick up items from the floor or open her refrigerator. Now Henry is convinced that trimming his nails is in his best interest.

            Last Saturday morning, Zoe wanted to know:  Do unicorns exist? Are mermaids real?

            I believed the answers we’d find might shift her taste in clothing, movies, music, and even inform the choice of stuffed animal she snuggles with at night.

We discovered that unicorn sightings might have been skinny rhinoceros or possibly rare Italian one-horned deer. We also learned that mermaids likely were manatees basking on boulders, or the wishful thinking of sailors who had been at sea too long.

            This news didn’t crush the child. A week later, when I asked Zoe what she wanted to be when older, she said, “A unicorn.” When I raised my eyebrows, she responded, “Okay, maybe a mermaid princess.”

            I felt surprised that Zoe continued to believe in the existence of unicorns and mermaids despite watching videos that made a strong case that neither creature exists. However, she not only still believed unicorns and mermaids were real, but Zoe also thought they were viable career choices.

This led me to google: Why do people persist in clinging to convictions that clearly are not true?

Folks tend to believe both what they’ve been told and what they have experienced. In the face of indisputable facts, it’s difficult to let go of long held beliefs. All the adults in Zoe’s life supported her view that these magical creatures are real. All the books she’s read, movies she’s watched and songs she’s listened to confirm that these beings live rich and varied lives, lives filled with romance and adventure.

            My not-so-scholarly internet search also revealed that emotionally charged lies can be more convincing than facts. They evoke strong feelings which impede critical thinking. Zoe possesses great affection for unicorns and mermaids. For now, she’s likely to ignore the obvious.

Lastly, I read about motivated thinking which is when people forgo rational thinking and cling to an erroneous belief, if it benefits them in a tangible way.  Unlike unicorns and mermaids, Zoe has never questioned the existence of the Tooth Fairy. This pragmatic child probably wouldn’t want to endanger her primary source of income. Why mess with success? 

I’ve been blind to my own false assumptions. Often, it takes a close friend or relative to point out what I’m missing. Years ago, I was convinced that I treated my two sons equally. However, a friend pointed out that whenever my three-year-old pitched a fit, I’d do anything to appease him. I appreciated her input, but believed she was wrong.

            Later, at a family event, my father filmed me grabbing a tambourine out of my five-year-old’s hand and giving it to my screaming three-year-old who wanted it. A few weeks later, when we were watching the video, I realized my friend had given me accurate feedback.

I’d made the false assumption that since I was trying hard to be a good parent, I’d never make the rooky mistake of favoring one boy over the other. Until I watched the video, I couldn’t see what was right before my eyes.

            Zoe’s belief in the existence of mermaids and unicorns isn’t hurting anyone. I’m happy she still can picture a rosy future for herself as a mermaid princess.

            However, the stakes of ignoring the truth are higher for us adults. The assumptions we make affect our perception of reality. False assumptions have consequences. When we adults get our facts wrong, people can suffer and die. Democracy can collapse.

            One trait that Zoe and Henry share is their curiosity. Like many children, they ask questions and take nothing for granted. Being curious requires an admission that you don’t know everything and that you are willing to explore in all directions for an answer.

            Einstein advised, “Never lose a holy curiosity.” Einstein meant one should approach the world in a spirit of humility and in an open-minded search for truth.

            I want so badly to state that maintaining a childlike curiosity will result in world peace, but I know there’s no quick fix. However, Einstein was no slacker, so maybe we should follow his lead.  What if we approach our assumptions with a holy curiosity and thereby take an ever-so-tiny step in the right direction.

(Names of children changed.)

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Read at STREETLIGHT.