21 Aug Raising a Sensitive Son: When Kindness Meets a Tough World
Kylie Ladd contemplates her son’s gentle nature and wonders how he will cope with the harshness of life.
A Boyhood Shaped by Indiana Jones
Yesterday I taught my nine-year-old son about the Nazis. It wasn’t planned, and it certainly wasn’t well executed, but I had no warning I’d be explaining the Third Reich before lunch.
The topic arose because Declan is a huge Indiana Jones fan. He has read all the books, owns all the Lego, and is often found in the backyard in his dad’s cricket hat, brandishing his sister’s skipping rope as a whip while dodging the trampoline. Last Christmas, Santa brought him the boxed set of all four movies, which he watches on special occasions—or when I have a pressing deadline.
When such an event arose yesterday, Declan chose Raiders of the Lost Ark. I put it on and went back to work, only to have him appear soon after.
“Mummy, who are the Nazis? Why do they want the Ark? And why were they burning books?”
I was taken aback. He’d watched the film many times before but never asked. “Uhh… they were bad guys. They were trying to win World War II, and they thought the Ark would help.”
“World War II? So they were real?” His eyes widened. “Did they kill anyone?”
“Um, sort of,” I hedged. “But it was a long time ago.”
He asked about the books. Improvising wildly, I said, “They burnt them because it was cold and they didn’t have central heating.” To my relief, Declan seemed content, but I wasn’t. Maybe I should have explained the Holocaust. But could a child who cries at a ‘lost dog’ poster cope with genocide?
A Tender Heart in a Tough World
Declan is a sensitive soul. “Soft as butter,” his father calls him. At nine, he still sleeps with two beloved soft toys, makes them cards and gifts, and when he is out on his bike, I will frequently see him skid to a stop to rescue worms and snails from pavements, “so nobody hurts them.”
If his younger sister Cameron is hurt or scolded, Declan is there instantly—cuddling, comforting, offering his best toys to cheer her up. He worries about people in wheelchairs, cried for days after reading our World Vision sponsored child had to work in the fields, and once gave all his showbag money to the Salvation Army at the fair.
Different Natures, Same Home
I’d love to claim credit for his gentle nature, but I can’t. Raised the same way, his sister is the exact opposite: bossy, self-involved, resilient. At just seven, Cameron is the dominant one. I’ve never even seen Declan tease her—except once, when he said he had enough toys and wanted Santa to give his gifts to poor children.
Cameron burst into tears: “That’s so unfair! Now Mum and Dad will want me to give mine away too.”
Shielding Him from Harsh Realities
If it’s hard being his sibling, it can be harder being his mother. I hate seeing him upset and have learned to shield him. I ban the evening news, gloss over 9/11, and pretend homelessness is by choice: “Some people just prefer the pavement, Dec.”
If Cameron leaves a light on or water dripping, I rush to fix it before he notices and spirals into a climate-change crisis. I worry how he’ll survive unrequited love, or even Remembrance Day—he sobbed for hours last year after being told to think about dead soldiers during the minute’s silence.
The Joy of Raising a Sensitive Child
Yet there are blessings. I love that he still calls me “Mummy” and comes to me for hugs. Watching his peers grow blasé, I’m grateful he still feels deeply, shows empathy, and is in touch with emotions not always encouraged in boys.
Of course, Declan can be as silly, destructive, or fart-obsessed as any other nine-year-old. But he differs in one crucial way: he wears his heart on his sleeve—on his chest, his pants, and his belt.
Illustration by Madeleine Stamer
