Go on kids - make loadsa noise!
Later K.M. rang from the hospital. “Hi Mummy. Just to let you know that I have a throat infection and the flu but J. is staying the night in hospital. They are going to put him on a drip. Daddy will call you when he can.” In the background I could hear J. being sick in the loo.
“Oh no poor J.”
Whilst G. was waiting to get J. settled in a room I decided to take the two youngest to the play park for the afternoon. The sun was shinning and the temperature mild and pleasant. L. and R. were hale, hearty and ready to swing off the swing, climb the climbing frame and lark around outside. I found a really nice bench in the sun and enjoyed watching them play happily together. They giggled and screeched, dug holes in the sandpit, raced each other on the wobbly horses and giggled as they clung together and slid down the slide. In fact they were so well behaved and having so much fun all I had to do was sit and sun myself and wave at them occasionally.
“With these children you need to put oil in your ears.” One of the mother’s said to me in English just as I was about to gather R. and L. and bring them home.. At first I thought she was joking. So I laughed and smiled at her. Then I realised she wasn’t joking and noticed she had a hardened expression on her face as she stood there watching L and R. Her two boys, of about 8 and 6, wore a clean pair of matching jeans and jackets. Not a rip in their trousers, not a grass stain in sight, not a mud smut on their cheeks.
L and R were larking around at the top of the slide and not getting a move on. Her two boys waited, passively, not smiling, for their turn.
“Come on L. and R.” I said. “Get a move on. There are other kids who want to have a go.”
Eventually L and R came screeching down the slide.
“These children have obviously been bought up to make a lot of noise boys. Just ignore them” The mother implored her boys.
Perhaps she thought I didn’t understand the local lingo but on she went.
“Stay away from them – they make far too much noise.”
I could feel my anger rise inside me.
“L and R.” I ordered at the top of my voice. “We’ll be leaving in five minutes but in the meantime screech, holler, giggle and yell. You are five and three years old. It is great to see you use your initiative and play together so nicely. You are out in the play park on a sunny afternoon and if you can’t screech, holler, giggle, yell and have fun here - then where the hell can you?”
L. and R. weren’t listening but I hoped the woman couldn’t help but here me. L and R ran over to the sandpit where they had left a rake and spade. The six year old boy, a full head taller than R., came running up to see what was going on. R. swung the spade around making sure that no one was going to take it off him.
“Come back here Thomas!” The mother ordered.” They are unruly children who have been badly brought up and you should not play with them. Come away from them.” Obediently Thomas ran back to his mother.
Right. Warfare.
“R. darling.” I said close enough for the mother to hear who was sitting on the floor with her boys helping them to build a sandcastle. “Did you see, darling, how even though that boy is a full head bigger than you he is scared of you. But, then again you have been badly brought up to behave like a thug. Better a thug than a coward.”
Humpf. Having got that off my chest I bundled R. back into the buggy, put L’s coat on and headed home. Luckily for me R. was reasonably well behaved and went into the buggy without the usual fuss.
“Say nicely good-bye to the boys.” I told R. and L. as we headed off.
“Bye! Bye!” “Daaaaag” they yelled friendly and sweetly at the boys. R waved at them happily from out of his buggy, totally unaware of the underlying frisson between mother and mother.
“Oh no poor J.”
Whilst G. was waiting to get J. settled in a room I decided to take the two youngest to the play park for the afternoon. The sun was shinning and the temperature mild and pleasant. L. and R. were hale, hearty and ready to swing off the swing, climb the climbing frame and lark around outside. I found a really nice bench in the sun and enjoyed watching them play happily together. They giggled and screeched, dug holes in the sandpit, raced each other on the wobbly horses and giggled as they clung together and slid down the slide. In fact they were so well behaved and having so much fun all I had to do was sit and sun myself and wave at them occasionally.
“With these children you need to put oil in your ears.” One of the mother’s said to me in English just as I was about to gather R. and L. and bring them home.. At first I thought she was joking. So I laughed and smiled at her. Then I realised she wasn’t joking and noticed she had a hardened expression on her face as she stood there watching L and R. Her two boys, of about 8 and 6, wore a clean pair of matching jeans and jackets. Not a rip in their trousers, not a grass stain in sight, not a mud smut on their cheeks.
L and R were larking around at the top of the slide and not getting a move on. Her two boys waited, passively, not smiling, for their turn.
“Come on L. and R.” I said. “Get a move on. There are other kids who want to have a go.”
Eventually L and R came screeching down the slide.
“These children have obviously been bought up to make a lot of noise boys. Just ignore them” The mother implored her boys.
Perhaps she thought I didn’t understand the local lingo but on she went.
“Stay away from them – they make far too much noise.”
I could feel my anger rise inside me.
“L and R.” I ordered at the top of my voice. “We’ll be leaving in five minutes but in the meantime screech, holler, giggle and yell. You are five and three years old. It is great to see you use your initiative and play together so nicely. You are out in the play park on a sunny afternoon and if you can’t screech, holler, giggle, yell and have fun here - then where the hell can you?”
L. and R. weren’t listening but I hoped the woman couldn’t help but here me. L and R ran over to the sandpit where they had left a rake and spade. The six year old boy, a full head taller than R., came running up to see what was going on. R. swung the spade around making sure that no one was going to take it off him.
“Come back here Thomas!” The mother ordered.” They are unruly children who have been badly brought up and you should not play with them. Come away from them.” Obediently Thomas ran back to his mother.
Right. Warfare.
“R. darling.” I said close enough for the mother to hear who was sitting on the floor with her boys helping them to build a sandcastle. “Did you see, darling, how even though that boy is a full head bigger than you he is scared of you. But, then again you have been badly brought up to behave like a thug. Better a thug than a coward.”
Humpf. Having got that off my chest I bundled R. back into the buggy, put L’s coat on and headed home. Luckily for me R. was reasonably well behaved and went into the buggy without the usual fuss.
“Say nicely good-bye to the boys.” I told R. and L. as we headed off.
“Bye! Bye!” “Daaaaag” they yelled friendly and sweetly at the boys. R waved at them happily from out of his buggy, totally unaware of the underlying frisson between mother and mother.
posted by Kathleen at 6:12 AM
1 Comments:
:-) the grass and the other side of the valley . Like all families with international backgrounds and ambitions, 'abroad' often beckons . Indeed in K's case it simply is .
We sometimes ponder foreign professional destinations : for all sorts of reasons , they do not really materialise . The Middle works well in terms of good local schools , job flexibility , general public services , living in town that has a distinct village feel to it and a fairly international outlook . Moving back to England makes no sense for most of those (not least affordable real estate) . But for one it would : eccentrics are few and far between in the Middle , hey those slightly out of the ordinary are not that numerous , either . One is not often amused here ,on the whole . And that extends to behaviour expected of children . G
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