In all of my interviews on the 20th anniversary of 9/11, I was asked the same question. How will you explain this to your child? I’d reply with complete honesty every time when I’d said, “I’m hoping to avoid it like the plague.” Reporters would give a little laugh, mostly relating to the sentiment because they have their own child and have avoided the 9/11 discussion as well. My children are just four and two years old. My older child Jade now understands that my dad is no longer here. She knows his name and can recognize him in a picture. She’s recently began asking what happened to him. Those are the moments I run to the window and shout, “Look, a rabbit!” While Jade rushes to the refrigerator to grab carrots, crisis averted. These situations have had me thinking, is it time to tell her?
Maybe there is a way to explain this to her. After all, kids her age watch Disney. They’ve seen Mufasa die in a stampede in the Lion King. Or Bambi’s mom, I’ll never look at a baby deer the same again. From a very young age, kids have seen death and to some degree, understand it. So why not make 9/11 something that can be explained in a way that’s concrete and gives the facts? Without going into explicit detail.
A few weeks after the 20th anniversary, I got a call from my friend, Corinne. Our fathers worked very closely at Cantor Fitzgerald. They most likely took their last breaths together. Corinne and I are forever linked. It’s as if the event of 9/11 seeped through our pores, bleeding into our bodies and forever changed our DNA, now encoded with Tuesday’s Children genes. That’s what we are, products of that day. It was one of the fastest decisions I’d ever made when Corinne said we should write a children’s book about 9/11 together. She had me at hello.
There’s steps and logistics to writing a book. You can’t just have an idea and go with it. There has to be research and evidence that the story is needed. So to the drawing board I went, creating an excel sheet of every picture book about 9/11 for children, and I noticed the same inconsistency throughout. Nothing was personal or heartfelt, it was bland, void of feelings and evidence that actual precious lives were lost that day. I wouldn't want to read any of these to my kids to explain what happened to my dad. It was meant to be. Corinne and I would write this story together. Who better to explain 9/11 to children then two girls who lost their parents that day? We both happen to be elementary school teachers too, an added bonus.
We’ve created an incredible book and down the road, it will be available for purchase. Our goal is to reach young children, around pre-k to the early elementary grades. That’s all I can say without giving any of the good stuff away. So on what little kid could I test this book? Like a focus group. I was in my kitchen one day sipping a steamy cup of coffee when Jade whizzed by on her pink scooter(on our newly stained hardwood floors). Yup, she’d be perfect.
I sat her down and we read the book cover to cover. Her eyes scanned the pages and took in the colors. Her questions were intelligent and appropriate. Tingles ran up and down my legs as I thought, we have a winner! This is working . As the story came to an end Jade sat quietly, her brown eyes stared up at the ceiling. “So grandpa Jeff was in that building?”
I nodded, “yes love”.
Her fingers stuck to the white pages as she flipped through the story. “And there were hero’s, who helped people.” Her face met mine and her inquisitive eyes locked in on me.
“That’s correct. That’s where my daddy was. And we are grateful for all of the wonderful people that tried to help everyone get out of the buildings.”
Her pink lips turned upward in a smile and she lifted her body out of the velvet chair. “I want a snack mom, let’s go get ice-cream.” Just like that, she went on to the next activity. She never brought the book up again. Even when we mention my dad , Jade doesn’t talk about the story I read to her about the Towers and it’s history. It’s possible she quickly forgot. Or chose to forget. Or maybe the book was a complete doozy? As I think about it, my chest tightens and I feel immense relief. Yup, she’s still too young.
Now I know to increase the age range of the book and hope my daughter doesn’t need therapy. Note to self, don’t use your child when operating heavy machinery, or when testing out a new book. Better luck next time.