When David was about 3, he had clearly found something behind the sofa that he desperately wanted to share because he shouted, “Everyone, look at me. I’ve had an idea.” We turned to find him holding a lightbulb above his head and giggling madly. He was 3! When I was 3, I’d probably have tried to stick it up my nose and here David was doing visual gags.
Besides the visual humour, as David has now turned 6, he is very keen to share hilarious stories about poo. I know these are hilarious because he is rolling on the floor and laughing as he tells me about the game in the playground called ‘hunt the poo’. David’s laugh can make me laugh so I think he’s happy that I am appreciating his jokes, but I just don’t get them! I have read several articles that tell me the toilet jokes should be over by the time he is seven. David is also at the age when he is experimenting with puns, and he will check with me to see if something that was said is a pun. I find this development of humour fascinating but my role in it worries me a little.
Since my first few weeks of teaching when I discovered that small children really don’t understand the subtlety behind sarcasm (apart from one fabulous 6-year-old who used to try it out on me), I have tried to never use it in the classroom. However, because David is so bright and clued-up, I do forget myself and say things such as “Yes, of course it’s fine not to wear a jumper or coat in this blizzard!” The fact that he tries to leave the house like that is either because he hasn’t recognised the tone I’ve used or (and more likely), he’s identified the sarcasm and he’s using it to get away with wearing no jumper or coat. Apparently, children start to identify sarcasm at about 5 or 6 but don’t really understand why people use it until they are older. (Why it’s difficult for children to understand sarcasm (theconversation.com))
I use humour constantly. I use it to make people smile, I use it to deflect pain, I use it to ease tension, I use it to praise others. I don’t think I have ever used it to hurt someone but unintentionally I may have.
My siblings and I were raised by the queen of sarcasm. It was ever present in the way we spoke about and to each other, but it was always underpinned by love. It never felt like sugar coated criticism. As David’s role model, do I want him to grow up with a flair for sarcasm as I did, or do I want to moderate the sarcasm and focus on the toilet humour? It never ceases to amaze me how many ways we can potentially mess up our children and how many aspects I can worry about!
