All games have a start. A beginning. A go. It isn’t terribly important which game it is, whether you move by a spinner or roll of a dice, the object is to safely and effectively reach the end. Unless it’s Trivial Pursuit, then you want to reach the middle. When my daughter was born I passed Go, but I didn’t collect $200. The real game of Life started, her life.
Realistically when she was born everything became a proverbial roll of the dice. Which foods would upset her stomach (for your information it was a lot of them), which diapers would leave to butt-reddening diaper rash, or even whether or not she would sleep longer that 45 minutes at a time during the night. With a little luck we moved on from chance to training. Our game was to anticipate her needs, and react accordingly like a sport. Now as she approaches 4 we are very much so entrenched in games. Her games, our games and the continual test of limits.
Now as she approaches 4 I am amazed at her ability to outsmart and out maneuver me. I am aware this will only get worse. We question our children time and time again with “how many apples do you see?!” or “what do YOU think will happen when you mix blue and yellow?!”. Most days I think she wonders how I passed Kindergarten based on my line of questions for her. And when the time is right they bust out a vocabulary word you didn’t know they knew, because their spinner landed on “frustrated” or “podiatrist”. Not things you expect them to say.
She jockeyed ahead. I don’t even try to let her win anymore, she is perfectly capable all on her own.
Sometimes the game is long.
I’ve never been one to say it’s all about winning. I like to play the game. I like learning new tricks to be a better player, which my daughter seems to teach me every day. Somedays she’ll best me, she will land on the short cut square and I will be playing catch up. But that’s ok.
Sometimes in Oregon it rains. But only sometimes. Other times it might be drizzling, misting, sprinkling, pouring, or most often as the weather man dictates “showering”. We like our different words for water falling from the sky. This land where children are so often confused by learning the sky is blue, since around here it is mostly gray. But with these many gray days, wet days, and completely erratic weather days we parents need places to take the kids to run in circles that is not just the living room at home.
We started attending the indoor park at the city rec center about the time my daughter could crawl. The array of toys wasn’t extensive, and the probability of injury was high for the most part. Crawlers intermixed with toddler’s just able to reach the pedals on the tricycles, but not adept enough to steer them, resulted in the occasional scene from “Red Asphalt”. Ok, that’s a bit dramatic. It seemed, though, like there was a frequent invasion of just a couple bigger kids to show the littler ones what kind of dare-deviling could be achieved . . . then all of a sudden that was my child.
Her mother gave the go ahead on this, not me!
As the parents (typically moms) stood along the sideline it seemed that the older the kids got the fewer mad dashes across the room to pick up a crying crawler would take place. Coffees in hand everyone could stand and chatter with the frequent interruptions of “don’t throw that at him/her” or “no, you don’t need to take off your pants”. Without fail, mouths open wide, the kids would come running. It was snack time.
Bartering, Sneaking. Begging. Stealing. All the typical jailhouse cafeteria decorum would take place around the little Fisher Price picnic table. We wonder why our little people are sick so often, then you watch them share food. They sit, they eat, they run off and quickly the food is picked up by a mom so that a wayward crawler isn’t learning whether he/she has a nut allergy yet. But for 2 hours twice a week its a place to go that is dry, and gives us a chance to count home many laps the old fella with a limp can make it around the track above us. Well worth the $2 entry fee.