The Longest Shortest Time

Breaking Toddler Logic Loops

Sasha has reached an age where she can request her own playdates. It’ll go down like this: She’ll ask to play with a certain kid, usually a girl. She’ll be nearly hyperventilating with excitement to see that kid. And then she and the kid will spend almost the entire time arguing. Arguing over what blanket the doll should be wrapped in; whether they’ll play outside or inside; who will use the potty first—or last. And as soon as we leave that kid’s home, she will be asking when she’ll get to play with this kid again.

If I found myself arguing with my friends as much as she does, I think I wouldn’t have any friends. But for a 3-year-old, I think the arguing is a way of navigating how, exactly, friendship works. After all, they do always manage to work something out and play peacefully, even if only for a few minutes at a time. Maybe those are the minutes she is remembering when she begs for another playdate.

A few weeks ago we went and stayed with good friends down in Philly, the city where Sasha was born. Sasha got to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor of her buddy’s room. We’ll call her buddy A. A is in kindergarten. A whopping 2.5 years older than Sasha. The two of them stayed up super late two nights in a row, giggling themselves into a stupor. By the second day, their exhaustion was showing.

I was talking with A’s mom over breakfast in the kitchen, when we heard shouting coming from the basement, where the girls were playing. I went down to see what was up.

“I want to be a mommy!” Sasha shouted, looking to me for backup. She was wearing a sparkly green fairy costume, complete with wings and a fluffy crown.

“But it’s not fair!” a pink-tutu-and-tiara-clad A shouted back. “I want to be a princess!”

“Why is that not fair?” I asked.

“Because,” A said, as if it should be perfectly obvious, “I’m the oldest. And mommies are older than princesses. So if I’m the princess, she can’t be the mommy!”

“I can!” Sasha retorted.

“You can’t!” A yelled back.

They went back and forth like this, screaming in each other’s faces, while I puzzled over a solution. I have always been fond of logic problems (I remember a super-sleuthy book I had as a kid that let you help solve the mysteries with a series of logic-driven check boxes). This felt like that. Like, if you considered all of the ifs correctly, you would come up with a satisfying then.

Mommies vs princesses, mommies vs princesses. Mommies are older than princesses . . . aha! I had it!

“Girls, girls,” I said, breaking them up. “How about this?” They looked at me, hopeful skepticism in their eyes. “A, how old are you as a princess?” I asked.

“Sixteen,” she said.

“Okay, so, how about if Sasha is a twelve-year-old mommy?”

A paused, running the ifs and thens through her mind. “Yes,” she said finally. “Okay.”

“And that works for you, Sasha?”

“Yes,” she agreed.

And they began playing in harmony. As any 16-year-old princess and 12-year-old mommy would.

I’ve gotta say, even though the fighting can grate on me, I was impressed to see Sasha sticking up to a six-year-old on matters of her imagination. I have worked hard to hammer home to her that your imagination is a place where anything can happen, and you have complete control of what happens there. But the flip side of that is, other people have complete control of their imaginations, so you can’t tell them what they can or can’t imagine or pretend. It is a difficult concept to reconcile for a developing mind.

I was a little stunned to find that my proposed compromise to their problem worked so easily. I think they were receptive to it because the truth is, they really did want to play together; they were just stuck in this logic loop. And they needed a 37-year-old mommy to help show them an escape route. Interestingly, that is what I think the best editors do well—especially editors of fiction, who have helped me unstick my imagination when it gets stuck. Great therapists can do this as well, particularly with postpartum depression—a time when our imaginations can loop in an unhealthy way.

Anyway. I am dying to hear how you have helped your kids through logic loops. What solutions have you offered to get them unstuck from arguments or problems?