Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

As my granddaughter is getting older, she's now nine, I tell her more, though gently, reassuringly.  I have not told her of my brother's death.  But yesterday, when we were discussing bunnies yet again, and visiting lops and dutch bunnies at the pet store, I told her of the bunny we'd brought from California to Colorado, and how it had been attacked and killed by something wild in it's hutch outside.  Before I'd only described the two bunnies we had later, neither of which we'd bought.  One my brother had given one to our older daughter, and our neighbor found the other in a farm field and gave it to us.  When we moved back to California, we found a home for both.  But I wanted her to know how careful she'll have to be and that her uncle needs to build a really strong hutch for the bunny.

As we were eating at a cafe, a strange incident happened where a man came in and said a boy outside had cut his head and the mother needed a person to drive her home.  This really worried my granddaughter, until she finally saw outside the window the boy with a towel around his head, but laughing.  I explained that we couldn't really give a ride to someone we didn't know, and that if it was an emergency, the thing to do was call the police.  My first impulse was to help, but then I thought:  I'm 69 and have a child in my care.  No way.  Let someone younger do it.  So I tried to balance concern and sympathy with common sense.  I told her stories of my trips to the emergency room with my various kids.  She relaxed.

Finally, yesterday was her chorus night at school, but it was pouring and I cannot drive at night because of macular degeneration, so I said:  "I listened to your chorus today recording your concert.  You all sounded great and your solo just gets better and better.  I'm not coming tonight because my husband would have to drive there and pick me up and the weather is awful.  I wish I could come, but at least I saw your piano recital and musical performance this week."  She was fine about it, and said she thought she'd sung the best ever that day.  She's entered the age of reason, and it's so much easier to explain my actions to her.

Age appropriateness is tricky and individualistic.  Before I speak, I try to gauge my words' effect on others to the best of my ability.  It's a skill in process, and probably without end.