In the last issue, we asked you what beliefs you have about your kids that you can't prove. Science schmience.

Here is a selection of answers submitted by our readers.

Nookie Alarm

My husband and I need no scientific studies to prove that children come hardwired with what we've dubbed the Potential Sibling Alarm (PSA). Undoubtedly the product of eons of evolution, the PSA alerts children whenever their parents are engaged in activity that might result in the production of a sibling, one who could compete with them for food, territory and attention. Once the PSA has sent its signals coursing along the child's neural pathways, he or she is almost guaranteed to interrupt the aforementioned parental activity. We would not be surprised at all to learn that linguists have confirmed a direct correlation between the PSA and the fact that every known language has a phrase translating to, "Oh well, at least we tried."

--Kate Haas, Portland, OR

Ask Me Again

I have two: 1) Despite what my children's pediatrician says, teething does seem to coincide with a low-grade fever. And 2) children come preprogrammed with a certain question quota. Every day they need to ask so many questions, even if they already know the answer.

--Carrie Hadler, San Francisco, CA

Pour Some Sugar On Them

My parenting truth? Candy is a good thing. My sons find delight in so much--caterpillars, the sound of the wind, pine cones, puddles, garbage trucks, mailboxes--they mock my jaded, blase attitude on a daily basis. And candy is for them the apex of amazements. These colorful, sweet, edible confections bring them such unmitigated happiness that I refuse to let my better sensibilities about nutrition and dental hygiene stop them from relishing a lollipop.

As we age, our joy slowly cedes ground to self-consciousness, insecurity, and the skepticism borne of experience. I am not ready for them to know that candy is just one of life's evil tricks, doubtless hatched by a cabal of greedy dentists. For now, I just unwrap a Starburst and watch the joy bloom on their faces.

--Alix Clyburn, Silver Spring, MD

Brilliant

I was once pressed to state what I believe, and the only thing I came up with is something for which I have no proof. My children are gifted. That there is no evidence for this is irrelevant. My kids only look average; really, they have untold depths, hidden talents, a capacity for things I cannot even imagine. No one will ever convince me otherwise, so let's go back to discussing the easy stuff, like gun control, abortion, and school funding.

--Anne Walton, Amherst, MA

Bless This Mess

I secretly, irrationally, believe in June Cleaver. I know that academics have made entire careers out of debunking our stereotypes of 1950s family life: one book on the subject is called The Way We Never Were. I know the research shows that modern moms stack up just fine against their predecessors. For one thing, despite all the demands we juggle, we actually spend more time with our kids than mothers did a generation or two ago. But I still find myself believing that, if I did everything just right, life could somehow be nothing but effortlessly immaculate rooms, dinner on the table at five, and calm, wise parents guiding their children through minor dilemmas in thirty minutes or less.

Of course, my family's cheerful (well, usually cheerful) chaos doesn't resemble that ideal in the least. And I have to remind myself that messy imperfection, struggle, uncertainty, and sudden wild hilarity are where real life is.

--Elizabeth Hedstrom, Takoma Park, MD

Want to see more? Subscribe and get Brain, Child sent right to your door.
Subscribe to Brain,Child.