This morning, I took Ava to the doctor. No big deal, we were basically on a fact-finding mission, to follow-up on a chronic problem. All went well, we returned home, and went on with our day.
This evening, we were all snuggled in bed, ready to read the next few pages of her dragon book (Eragon—a very advanced book, most of which goes over her head, and much of which has to be edited on the fly due to some unsettling violence, but which she totally enjoys and seems to glean enough of the plot to follow along. And Carter also seems to be enjoying it—he knows the name of the dragon, and always picks it up and says “important book.”), and as I was just about to start, she said “Mom?”

I put the book down and said “yes?” –she paused, seemed to summon her thoughts, and with wildly gesturing hands asked “The doctors—how do they know?”

Hmmmmm….”What do you mean, Ava?”

“Just, how do they know?”

“Know how to take care of you?”

“yes. How—WHERE does that come from? ”

Suspecting that this was not simply the question “How do you become a doctor?” and more of an epistemological query, I hesitated, then decided to go with the straightforward mechanics of becoming a doctor, since that seemed to be the right point of entry to this clearly philosophical issue. So, without going into too much depth, I talked a bit about medical school.

“But how do the TEACHERS know what to tell them? Do they just KNOW?”

Now we were getting somewhere.

“No, they had to learn from someone else, who also had to learn from someone else…” and I sort of dramatized the transmission of knowledge, but knew I could not just stop there, because that left out the beginning—where did the knowledge START? So, I explained, again as simply as I could, and without calling it as such, the concept of the Scientific Method. And then I made the point that doctors and scientists were always learning, and adding to that nebulous floating body of knowledge.

She was almost satisfied—but now she wanted to know how the doctors learned it—how they understood it—and that of course was the simple part, in which I was able to accurately explain the process of learning step by step, in increments, leading to more and more difficult and/or complex concepts. This was easily illustrated with a skating example—a year ago, she could not do 3 waltz jumps, and now she can, because she learned all of the little steps that go into that nifty little trick.

It was a very interesting conversation, and a nice little window into her mind. I did not bother to tell her that she was grappling with a question that has been pondered for 1000s of years, and to which an entire branch of philosophy has been devoted.

What was very interesting was that she was clearly trying to discern if knowledge was an entity in and of itself--distinct from the knower.

For his part, Carter seems to like pronouns a lot. And he is very preoccupied with names. “Carter? Name?” “Saphira? Name?” (The dragon), “Ava, name?” – Sort of clarifying the difference between specific names and more general pronouns and labels (he, she, this, hers, brother, sister…).
And he apparently likes mustard a lot. Enough to eat spoonfuls of it. NOT my idea, nor initiated by me. I came upon the scene mid-swallow. I had to turn my head to gag, frankly.