I go walking with my grandkids. I suddenly see a gap in the stream of cars
and grab my opportunity and rush across the road.
My grandkids linger on the footpath.
I find myself, by myself, on one side of the road with my
grandkids huddling together in safety on the other side of the road. I
hurriedly rush back across the road.
I say to my silent grandkids: “I just did the wrong thing. Can
you tell me what did I do wrong?”
Bruce says: “You crossed the road.”
I say: “Yes that’s right. I crossed the road when it was not
safe. I should have waited.”
I then say: “I will now show you the safe way to cross the
road. Stand safe on the footpath. Look up and down the road. Tell me when it’s
safe to cross the road. Look this way
and then that way.”
They then say all the right things and we cross safely. We don’t rush.
As we wander further we approach a low brick fence. Kay and
Gertrude argue about who is going first on the fence. Bruce just climbs up and
walks along the fence dodging the bushes. They all follow him. They tell me,
“You are not allowed up here.”
We continue our amble.
It occurs to me that making a mistake has been a good learning
experience. My mistake has raised an important topic. It has helped reinforce
the correct way to safely cross a dangerous road.
I notice Kay has a flower in her hair. She looks charming
and cute but there must be a garden we have just passed which looks a little
more barren. Must mention to her if she
picks a flower other people don’t get to see it. Maybe she picked a flower
overlapping the path and getting in the way?
Further along we approach a big, annoying, barking dog.
I must get them to learn that this is a dog to avoid. That this
dog is not one to pat. He looks ugly, scary and frightening. More a guard dog
than a friendly pet dog.
I stick my hand between the palings and pretend to pat the
dog.
I then say: “Whatever you do. Don’t do this. This dog is not
one for patting.”
Kay says: “Why not?”
I turn to face her and say: “Glad you said that.”
The dog grabs my finger. I feel the teeth pierce my skin. I
feel the teeth grinding on my knuckles. I can even hear it. Ah that hurts. It
really aches. Please let go.
I pull and pull and pull and eventually unite my blood
stained hand with the rest of me. Blood drips on the footpath and on my pants.
I garb a hanky and hid my finger in it.
They laugh uncontrollably. They laugh loudly.
They nudge each other.
They all say to each other: “Did you see that?”
As well as laughing they are curious. They all watch the
blood stain as it increases in size. They are fascinated as the bool stain
grows.
They all want to look at my cut finger. I exhibit my finger.
They are now quiet. So I say: “What have we learnt?”
Kay: “Carry a handkerchief.”
Bruce: “That’s right. You always need a hanky.”
Kay: “That’s right. You don’t want blood on your clothes.”
As we wander on I realise I have made another mistake. It
was a mistake to think they only learn from mistakes.
published in the paper the 24.10.19
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