"We often need to shed our skins, those coatings and facades that we cover ourselves with," I said to my now absorbed daughter. "We outgrow some things and find other stuff unwanted or unnecessary. This snake no longer needs this skin. It is probably too stiff and crinkly for him, and he probably doesn't think he looks as smart in it as he once did. Like buying a new suit."

Of course, I' m sure this explanation won't sit well with bonafide naturalists. But Sarah was getting the point. As we talked, I knew that she began to comprehend, albeit slightly, that renewal is part of progress; that we need to take a good look at ourselves, and our rooms and schoolwork and creativity and spirituality, and see what we need to keep and what we need to cast off. I was careful to point out that this is a natural process, not one to be forced.

我告诉全神贯注的小女儿：“我们常常要’蜕皮’，换掉身上那些衣服。我们长大了，有些东西不想要了，有些不需要了。这条蛇不再需要这张皮了。可能是蛇感到这张皮既僵硬又难看，穿在身上不像以前那么漂亮。就像买一套新衣服那样。”

当然了，我敢肯定这样的解释不能让真正的博物学家满意。但萨拉听明白了。谈话间，我知道萨拉尽管是朦朦胧胧的，但理解了新生是进步的一部分，理解到我们需要好好审视自我、房间、功课、创造力以及灵性，想想需要留下什么，摒弃哪些。我用心地解释这是自然过程，并非强迫着去做的。