The Fun Police
This weekend this happened.
That is one cloud reaching slide. Ridiculously scary for your average 3 year old.
But nothing about this child is average. ALL BY HERSELF!
This child figured out at least 3 different ways to make the slide EVEN MORE FUN then it already was.
It made me realise how far we have all come. Two years ago I wrote about playgrounds. And how much FUN they were……..
I am the fun police.
In the spirit of keeping it real I have been so busy on fun police shifts, I have only just realized that I had taken up this position.
Yes, that’s right it has taken me 4 long years to realize I had fully morphed into a fear ridden, anxiety filled, arrester of fun.
The realisation goes like this. Son aged 4 asks me if we can go to the park AND take his bike. I can see the look on his face. He is worried that this event, may enter into fun police jurisdiction. Negotiating two activities, the park and the bike riding, is a risk assessment nightmare. I try hard to escape my fun police role and give in with a “as long as we go now before it is too late, too dark and too cold and you have your hat, sunscreen, helmet, shoes and socks, training wheels, jumper, first aid kit and drink bottle.
Somewhere between finding matching socks and stopping daughter aged 1 from drinking the sunscreen, we had lost 30 minutes. It was now approaching the danger zone. You know that time when it is possibly too cold/too dark/too close to the evening routine time? This one activity could jeopardise our clockwork organisation systems.
But we do it. I am determined to let him have fun. He rides his bike along the path with me screaming behind him.
“Slow down, ring your bell if someone is in the way, watch where you are going, stay on the side of the path, dont go too fast!”
Not sure why I bother he is clearly having such a good time that all heres is FAST.
We have a break and he plays on the playground. Whoever builds these things sure does not have a fun police hat. Going up the slide the wrong way seems to add to the fun especially if you can collect your sister on the way and push her to the bottom. Swings are a mid air version of dodgem cars, and seem to magnetically draw toddlers to their high speed collision fun. The spinning bucket lures them in with a false sense of dizzy fun but leaves them screaming for assistance when they cant stop its whirling.
In case I wasn’t already in a state of anxiety there is a fantastic new spinning swing. A massive big circle around which a posse of kids are staring and daring each participant to attempt it. Who thinks of these things. The kids push it around at vomit inducing speeds and much to my horror, son aged 4, spots it. I bite my tongue. The voice in my head beckons the fun police to get lost.
LET HIM GO ON IT. So I do. He watches carefully. The kids are getting giddy and then jumping off to wander around the playground in a drunk like state and fall down. “Go on” I say. “You can go on it.”
He pauses a while. Taking it all in.
“No Mummy, I’m too scared. “
I have done it. I have succeeded. What a sensible boy. I have taught him well. Or have I?
But wait there’s more. A hill. Not just any hill but a pyramid shaped steep incline that is like a child’s Everest. At the top, a line of children, holding cardboard boxes. They take it in turns to toboggan down the hill. The speed they rack up is incredible. If only I had my speed camera with me. They squeal with abandon. The look on their face is pure joy, thrill, excitement.
“Wow Mummy” son aged 4 starts. I wait for it. This looks like fun.
“That is soooo dangerous” he scolds and points.
What! Dangerous? What have I done. I have filled him with so much fear he can no longer see the fun. There is only one solution to this. I kick off my shoes, hike up my jeans and grab his hand. He looks at me like I’m a deranged woman. We balance on the top of the hill and wait our turn. With each child’s giggles and squeals his anxious face gradually turns to anticipation. It’s his turn. I maybe ready to have fun, but I still want to catch him at the bottom. I run down. He waits for me. Once he spots me his confidence soars. He leaps. Literally. At first he looks scared but then he starts squealing. He zooms down that hill faster than he could ever ride his bike.
We went up and down that hill a hundred times. He got creative and more daring with each ride. Going on his stomach, going backwards, trying to surf the cardboard. There were times where I held my breath, but I never closed my eyes. I wanted to soak in every bit of this moment. So maybe for him it was just a step off a hill, but for mummy it was a giant leap. A leap without my uniformed hat. Maybe it got too late, too dark and too cold. Maybe our evening routine was out of whack. We didn’t notice. We were having too much fun.