Friday, April 26, 2013

The Game of Losing and Finding

Colie, who is almost three years old, needs to put on his shoes so we can be ready to go out in a few minutes. The shoes are clearly visible on the living room floor, but he wanders around the room saying "I can't find it!"

"Yes you can," I say. "You're not looking hard."

"I don't know," he says, while carefully turning his back to the shoes. "Is it... behind me?"

I sigh impatiently.

Suddenly Colie spins around and flings his arm forward to point directly at the shoes. "Aha!" he shouts excitedly. "There it is!"

***

Ever since she was a kitten, Tetra has loved receipts. Crumple one up and throw it; she'll run after it like a cheetah after a gazelle. When it stops moving, she'll strike it with her paw to send it flying and resume the chase.

One day, after playing this way for a solid twenty minutes, she abruptly stops and walks nonchalantly away from the little ball of paper. Her whole demeanor seems to say "Receipt? What receipt? I didn't see any receipt."

Moments later, upon casually turning her head, she catches sight of it out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly on the alert, she crouches, tail twitching, and the hunt is on again.

***

It's not just animals and children. People love to feign ignorance in conversation, either to make a point, to prod someone into explaining their position, or just as a joke. My mother's favorite game involves deliberately misunderstanding what others are saying.

"It's almost time to start planting zucchini."

"Zucchini. Isn't that a long flat noodle?"

"No, Mom, that's linguine."

"Oh. I thought that was an expert on languages."

"That's a linguist."

"Really? Huh. I always thought that meant..."

"Shut up, Mom."

***

Why is it so fun to pretend not to know what you know? Why do we get so much pleasure from feigning ignorance? From whence comes that secret delight when the moment approaches, you turn, open your eyes up wide, and "discover" what has been obvious the whole time?

Maybe we just like to fool people, but that doesn't explain why we enjoy blatantly faking it as well as subtly deceiving. I'm more inclined to believe that the process of learning - the journey from ignorance to knowledge - is so intensely fulfilling that even play-acting the process is enjoyable enough to be a fun game. Acting and re-enacting the moment of discovery over and over again prolongs the excitement and the thrill of the chase.

Why is it so fun to pretend not to know what you know? I don't have a clue, but I'm looking forward to figuring it out. Maybe it has something to do with the pleasure we get from learning something new...

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