My grandkids are magnetically attracted and pulled towards a playground. They run towards the child safe gate then stand and peer anxiously at me as I saunter towards them. I open the gate and they rush in and immediately, without carefully and logically considering all the options, run towards some vacant equipment.
The playground
is their playground. I can’t tell them anything. I can’t say go on this swing; be
careful; play on the slide; you can’t suddenly and randomly go from one thing
to another.
I follow them to
a large rope climbing structure.
Grandfather:
I’ll help you.
Bruce: I don’t
need your help. I can do it by myself.
Our thinking
coalesces. We both think. Take a risk. Enjoy yourself. Don’t think about health
and safety guidelines. Consider other people but just go for it.
They gravitate
to a row of swings. Why do kids love
swinging? Perhaps if I swing, I can find out why.
Kay: You can’t do
that because your brain is damaged.
Grandfather: How’s
your brain?
Kay: Amazing.
Kay: You can
push me.
Bruce appears
to be playing with another guy. I can never tell if this is the first time they
have met or not.
Bruce: He’s my
best friend.
Grandfather: How
many best friends do you have?
Bruce thinks
and then says: Three.
Kay looks at
the slide and says to me: When I go down, I’ll say, hip, hip hoorah.”
She slides down
and grandfather says: You forgot to say anything.
Kay says: Your
right.
She runs back
to the slide. She must correct her mistake. She must slide properly.
As we walk back
to our house Bruce says: Can I wash my hands on you?
Grandfather: No.
Bruce: Well my
hands are dirty. How can I clean them?
Kay: I picked
up a stitch.
Grandfather:
Where abouts?
Kay points back
at the playground.
No comments:
Post a Comment