Ugh. This parenting thing really sucks sometimes.

I was in the living room today watching the President talk about the attempted Christmas Day terrorist attack. My 6-year old son was playing Legos and my 4-year old daughter Webkinz. Neither seemed to be paying much attention.

I should have known better.

CNN flashed images of terrorists training in some far off land, and my son said “Who are those guys? What are they doing?”

And instead of my usual parental evasion that I love so much, I just said it…flat out:

They are bad guys. They are training to hurt us. They are called terrorists.

Why are they bad? Why don’t they like us?

And a very touchy conversation took place in which I tried very hard to explain, in 6-year old terms, how Americans haven’t always been nice either, and that people spend years hating other people for things that could probably be solved with diplomacy. I explained that they didn’t like us very much. That they wanted to hurt us.

My darling little boy then asked me if the terrorist could come here. I could tell he was scared.

I wanted to say no. I wanted so badly to say no.

Honey they do try to come here a lot. But that’s why we have soldiers and police and the Army and Navy and Air Force and Marines and they all protect us.

His eyes were huge. And I wanted to lie to him.

Well Mom, if they came here I’d hide in our ottoman with the toys. And I know some karate.

Sigh. My 6-year old, thinking about how to evade a terrorist. What kind of world is this?

You won’t have to hide, sweetie. We have lots of people to protect us. Plus, our President is working on making it so that we all don’t hate each other anymore. And no one will want to hurt anyone.

Softening a bit, he came and sat next to me on the couch.

Mom, the next time you go see Barack Obama at that place…can you tell him to talk to them right away. Like, maybe, before I go back to school from my vacation?

I blinked a few times, put my arm around him…

I’ll try honey. I’m sure he’s very busy though. But I will try…

And with that he was off the couch and practicing his Tae Kwon Do moves on his sister’s new dinosaur.

I wanted to start the conversation over. I wanted to make sure I explained to him that war wasn’t the answer and that these terrorists had families of their own…probably a little boy and a girl, just like his family.

Instead I sat there dumbfounded, and worried and unsure how to explain to him culture clashes and wars that were as old as time. And hoping I didn’t say anything to ingrain in him the idea that Americans were entitled to everything and always right, and that he was superior to anyone- but also making sure he understood killing innocent people was never acceptable. And that we will always defend ourselves against attacks.

All I saw was him punching and kicking the dinosaur. And I wanted to cry.

I think I failed.