Reliability: Me vs. a Four-Year-Old
Who wins?
I recently witnessed a car crash after dropping my children off at school. One car sped through a busy intersection while another car simultaneously attempted to make a left. The turning car’s view was obscured and it crashed into the car flying through the intersection. Luckily, neither driver was injured and they were able to pull their smashed-up vehicles safely over to the side of the road. Once I saw the drivers who directly witnessed the crash stop to help, I headed home.
On the way home, I attempted to recall what I had seen in detail and became more and more unsure of myself. At first, I thought the car driving quickly through the intersection was at fault. Then I thought again and it seemed the car turning should have also been more careful before attempting to make a left. Both cars were clearly moving too fast to react in time and prevent an accident.
As I tried to recall additional detail such as the colour of the cars, the other vehicles situated around the intersection, and the drivers’ reactions, it became hazy. I had been half-listening to the news on the radio and had only perked up when I saw the speeding car enter the intersection and heard the honking of the cars in front. I wondered if I would be a reliable witness in this situation with so much uncertainty?
The next day, my four-year-old ran over to me while I was packing his bag for school. “I just saw a giant rat in the laundry room!” he said. My eyes grew wide. We have had issues with woodmice coming in through the garage before though, so I wasn’t entirely surprised. I asked him to recall what he had seen.
“He was in the washing machine, Mummy,” he said affirmatively. “No, actually he ran under the machine. He came in from the garage,” he corrected himself. I informed him the door to the garage had been closed. “Ok, he came out from the shoes.” I asked him what he looked like. “I think he was THIS big,” he drew his hands out wide. “Well, actually just that big” he made his hands much smaller. “He was grey, Mummy,” he said convincingly.
In the car to school, he started to doubt himself. “Just forget it, Mummy,” he said, clearly frustrated as I continued to pepper him with questions. I wasn’t particularly keen to take out all of our mouse paraphernalia on a whim. “Is this for real or just a joke?” I asked him. “It’s for real!” he replied adamantly. I assured him I believed him and just wanted to understand more.
It’s amazing how we begin to question exactly what we’ve seen as we recall a situation over and over again in more detail. When my husband and I saw a mouse months earlier we, too, wondered if it had actually been some figment of our overtired late-night imaginations. We usually chide children for making up tall tales and changing the facts but in this case, I believed in my four-year-old’s account more than my own.
