Lions and tigers and terrorists, oh my.

Since I've turned into my mother I listen to a lot of talk radio. Actually, I have become an AM fanatic. Confused Springsteen CDs lay unused in cases on the floor of my car. (Unplayed yes, but not forgotten.)

These past few weeks there's been a lot of talk on the radio about how to discuss - or more accurately avoid discussing - bin Laden's untimely demise (as in a decade late) with very young kids. Some people firmly believe you should shield kids from it. And on one level I get this concern. September 11th was horrific and not nearly as fun to talk about at dinner as say the ever-changing rules of Freeze Tag. And so we've sidestepped this topic in our house for now.

But when it comes to talking about the monster behind 9/11, or any other "bad guy" I don't see the point in shying away from it. I simply don't believe it's too much for little kids to grasp. In fact, I believe they inherently understand the concept of good vs. evil. They are exposed to it everywhere.

Some examples:

Batman = good. Joker = evil.

Superman = good. Lex Luthor = evil.

Dorothy = good. Wicked Witch = evil.

72 and sunny = good. Blizzard = evil.

The Eagles "Take it Easy" = good. The Eagles "Take it Easy" for the 50,000,000th time = evil.

The nurse who gently gave you your first bath after delivery = good. The mohel who circumcised you eight days later = necessary evil.

Mommy giving you fruit = good. Daddy giving you jelly beans which rip the sealants off your teeth even after the dentist made it perfectly clear umpteen thousand times that you absolutely cannot eat tacky, chewy foods and treats = well, you get my point.

And so do kids.

When public enemy #1 was killed last week it was the only topic on every station in the world – except maybe the BBC which was still busy debating the royal nail polish. Our kids got wind of this news and naturally had questions. Well, okay, just one question. But to be fair, they were in the middle of an intense game of some kind involving Matchbox cars and our couch cushions so they had a lot on their plate. Still, I think my husband handled it brilliantly.

Boys: "How bad was he (bin Laden)?"

Husband: "Well, you know Lex Luthor?"

Kids: "Uh huh."

Husband: "Well he was way worse than Lex Luthor."

(Silence as the kids tried to comprehend this. You could see the shock on their faces followed quickly by doubt. No way anyone could be worse than Lex Luthor. I mean, he wanted to knock part of California into the ocean so he could get more coastline property. And that's just mean.)

Kids: "For real?"

Husband: "For real."

That satisfied them for the time being and that's fine. But if they had wanted to know more, I would have told them.

When talking about these "bad guys" I opt for full disclosure. I tell them almost everything. Of course I tell our boys that most people are inherently good. But because of the bad ones out there, I want them to be ever vigilant. And to be vigilant they have to first be aware. And to be aware they must first listen. Which means I have to squeeze these conversations into the car rides to and from school when they are literally strapped down and I know they can hear me even if their tiny hands are pressed firmly over their ears.

I know some people will disagree with this tactic and that's fine. Still, this is one thing I simply don't struggle with. (And believe me I struggle with everything.) But here I have my reasons.

When I was seven I was thisclose (actually probably closer than that) to being snatched from my front yard by a dark-haired man with black mustache, black cap, black gloves, black leather jacket and blue convertible with a black top. I was waiting outside my house for my ride to a public session at the ice rink (because skating every morning before school, after school, weekends and summers apparently wasn't enough) when this Hannibal Lecter-type pulled up to our curb and asked if I wanted a ride. I firmly said no, which was, according to him, the wrong answer. So he got out of the car and chased me from the curb to my front door. He was literally about to grab my arm and whisk me away when my mom heard me screaming and pounding on the door and stepped outside. Hannibal turned and ran. The cops came. I never knew if he was caught or just found another victim. But I do know that a second later and I'd have been a goner. Because even though I didn't ask him, I'm pretty certain he never intended to drive me to the rink.

For those who can't stand the suspense, I never made it skating that day.

I remember every single detail about that moment. It left me with the most permanent scar I have from my childhood. (And I wiped out on the ice a lot.)

And so when I talk to my kids about safety, I don't have the most gentle approach.  I go beyond just drilling them to never talk to strangers. I make sure they realize that if they ever get into a car with anyone they will never, ever, ever see mommy or daddy again. I've talked explicitly about what has happened to me and to kids who weren't as lucky as I was. I describe evil.

And it affects them. They get quiet and they get scared. But despite the emotions this brings up, I can see them processing the information and storing it away for that "just-in-case" moment that we all hope never comes.

The result is that they know what to do should someone approach them on a playground and say they have a cute puppy, candy (yes, even cotton candy) or the real Batman hidden in their car. They know it's okay to be rude to strangers. To kick a man (no not your brother) in his groin if he grabbed their arm. They know they are not EVER allowed to get into a car with anyone, even a friend's parent who they know well, unless I have explicitly alerted them, their teachers, the entire Parent's Association, Obama, all higher-ups in the CIA and the UN about this change in pick-up and branded it onto their tiny foreheads just to be sure.

I've drilled this in so well that I worry the boys might put up a fight should my husband pick them up as a surprise one day.

Yes it's a fear tactic. No it's not for everyone. But it does work. Maybe a little too well, I admit. My kids are not wallflowers by any means. They are very outgoing and social. But there are times when I'm introducing them to someone new and I can tell they are struggling with whether or not it's okay to say hello. I don't know if it's shyness or fear.

I must admit, I hope it's fear. But I believe a healthy dose of fear and distrust can help keep your limbs intact. 

Before anyone calls DCFS on me, let me say that I'm conscious of what I'm doing and concerned about protecting their fragile psyches. I don't tell them these stories at bedtime or even weekly. I don't make them sit and watch horror stories on Dateline. In fact, just the opposite. I turn off the TV the minute one of these stories airs. Because while I want them to know the reality of these bad guys, I want them to hear it from me. Not Matt Lauer, who I am pretty sure won't be there to comfort them in the middle of the night when they wake up screaming from a bad dream. (Which, by the way, they've never had after one of our talks.)

Am I permanently scarring them by being so direct? One hundred percent, positively, absolutely NOT.

I hope.

I mean sure their necks may be a tad sore from looking over their shoulders so much but otherwise I fully expect they will go on to lead productive - and safe - lives. Although they are still in their single digits and I have no doubt I'll be blamed for this and a multitude of other sins once puberty hits.

So my point is, should they ask more questions about bin Laden, I'll tell them.

And years from now should they attack me for scaring them this way, I'll know exactly what to do; Run screaming from the room yelling, "fire!"

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