Scoot This

Maybe I'm just cranky. 

If you didn't like this post, then bad news for you, you're not going to like this one as it's a continuation of the same rant. I think I've discovered something more annoying and disruptive than bounce houses. There is a scooter epidemic in Geneva. These two wheeled contraptions are choking the streets, sidewalks and parks and let's just say I'm not a fan.

In Joburg everyone likes to complain endlessly about the mini bus taxis. Taxi drivers wreak havoc on the streets breaking every traffic law within a five minute time period. If you are driving and you see a taxi you must assume the driver is going to cut across three lanes of traffic and then stop without warning. The difference between the taxis and these scooters is that at least taxis serve an important purpose. Without the taxis, millions of people would have no transportation and the South African economy would collapse. Scooters however serve absolutely no purpose, they are simply a toy and a most annoying one at that.

Since I'm not sure if the scooter scourge is a worldwide issue or not, let me show you a photo of the type of scooter I'm referring to. 

I haven't taken a formal survey, but my informal research tells me that every child in Geneva owns one of these. 

When faced with a puzzling mystery, one first must ask why. So I have asked myself why do kids (I won't even get started on adults) need scooters? Some quick research on Google indicates that humans have been walking upright for 1.9 million years. Why the sudden need to scoot? Is it that parents think their kids don't walk fast enough? Is it just a phase or a craze? I can't come up with an answer that satisfies. 

Don't think that these scooters are just for older kids either. Yesterday in the park I saw a kid with a pacifier in his mouth riding a scooter. Surely if you are still using a pacifier you don't need your own set of wheels. Your first order of business should be weaning yourself off sucking a plastic nipple when you go out in public. I also saw a parent pushing an empty stroller while the kid scooted up ahead. This situation says just one thing, this parent doesn't want his kid to have to walk, he can either be pushed or he can scoot but walking is frowned upon. 

There is a reason that kids don't drive cars and can't get licenses until they are older. It's because they can't steer. I can't tell you how many times I've been running in the park only to have a near miss collision with a four year old scooting uncontrollably. The parents don't even seem to notice that I've had to jump off the path and into a shrub to save myself from being taken out by their kid. The parents are too busy smoking and chatting away on their cell phones to concern themselves with my safety.

I sometimes like to play a little game of chicken with these scooting kids as I run. I will run toward them and not get out of the way until the last possible minute. While it may seem mean I am trying to teach them an important life lesson which is sometimes you need to %$&!%^ing move. 

But I know the real reason these scooters bother me so much and it's not because I am almost maimed daily or am simply mean. It's because I'm still dealing with culture shock having moved to fancy pants Geneva from South Africa. While there are plenty of wealthy kids living a plush (and bouncing castle filled) life in South Africa there were also a lot of kids who didn't own any toys. Anyone who has visited a township like Diepsloot or Soweto has seen kids playing outside using rocks, string and trash as makeshift toys. Once you've seen that, you don't forget that image easily.

One day Mr. Deep and I witnessed a temper tantrum which took place outside our apartment. A child and his mother were standing on the street corner and clearly the kid was having a meltdown. He threw his scooter into the street while screaming. The mother, calmly bent down and retrieved it. 

Had I been that parent, that moment would have been the last time that child ever touched that scooter. That scooter would have been boxed up and on it's way to Africa before that kid could ask "has anyone seen my scooter?" It would have been on its way to a needy and appreciative child who could ride it the 5km each way that he has to walk to and from school each day. 

Maybe I'm just cranky. 

Toyless

I am going to start this post off by reminding you, just in case you've forgotten, that I know nothing about children. All that I do know comes from two sources. First, once I was a child (although admittedly that was a very long time ago.) Second, I have been volunteering at the Diepsloot Combined School and working with students in grades three and four for over a year. 

Recently, I went over to Gift's house to spend a few hours with Gift and Beatrice. Gift's nephew (his brother's son), a five year old boy named Wayne, was there.  

I couldn't help but notice a few things about Wayne and the situation that were so different than other families with children that I have visited and observed. 

First, Wayne doesn't have any toys. There was a rubber ball outside that I assume is his but that is all.

Second, Wayne was not the center of attention. The adults talked and did their thing and Wayne was just....well he was just there. He was not neglected. He was not running out into traffic or putting a plastic bag over his head but no one really talked to him, played with him or was too concerned with him. When Beatrice made him a snack he went a got a small chair (so he may not have toys but he does have his own small chair) and sat quietly at the table and ate.  When she walked to the shop he went along with her. When we went outside, he came with us. 

Third, Wayne did not whine, complain, cry or fuss. He was perfectly behaved. 

Fourth, Wayne was put to work. When the adults drank tea, each of them, one by one as they finished, summoned Wayne to collect the empty mug and put it in the sink. And he did it.

Like so many things that I see in South Africa, I really don't know what to make of this. It was so different than my other experiences of being around people and their children. Usually, children are constantly interrupting adults who are trying to have an adult conversation. Adults will say things to children like, "I am talking to Mrs. Deep right now Myrtle, please wait a moment and then I'll get you a sippy cup of juice." And then the mother will turn back to the other adult and say, "I'm sorry about how Myrtle is acting. She missed her nap today." 

Often when you are visiting a home with children in it, a child will come up to you and push a toy into your face in an effort to get you to play. There is also normally some amount of crying, whining or even a full on melt down. And usually when you are in a house where kids live, toys are strewn about everywhere. 

On the one hand my reaction to Wayne's situations is this. Oh my God this child has no toys. Isn't play an important part of child development? Won't he be behind with his motor and other skills when he gets to school? Is his childhood completely joyless? 

But then there is a part of me that I thinks this. Many kids have tons of toys. They have so many toys that they don't even know what they have. Are kids with toys smarter, happier, better adjusted or on a path to a brighter future? Did Albert Einstein have any toys as a kid? Did Nelson Mandela? I read Long Walk to Freedom and I don't recall toys being mentioned. Most of our grandparents and great grandparents probably had very few if any toys. Many kids today, in my opinion, are spending their childhoods being entertained every minute either by someone or something. Is that really the best way to grow up?  

Of course it important for children (and adults) to know that they are loved and it is important that they are cared for properly. But how much attention is the right amount?  Is it better to be showered with attention as a young person? Or, do you end up feeling less entitled and less frustrated by what life throws at you if you grow up the way that Wayne is? Isn't one of the hardest parts of being an adult that people rarely fuss over you? Adults don't spend time telling other adults how smart, cute or funny they are. Yes, at work someone may say, "great job in the meeting today." Or one adult may say to another, "have you been working out? Your butt is looking very firm and high." But accolades and adoration are rare once you become an adult. 

I don't know the answers to these questions. And I try hard not to judge. I don't judge the parents who smother their children with attention, toys and bounce houses (that's not true I draw the line at bounce houses but only because I am repeatedly traumatized by their very existence.) And I don't judge Wayne's family either. But last week I did take Beatrice and Wayne to to the zoo just in case joy and play are an essential part of childhood. 

Wayne at the zoo. And while he doesn't look particularly thrilled in this photo, trust me, he had fun. 

Bounce

In case you missed it, great news! We don't have to move out of our house. After we retained a lawyer suddenly the new owner was open to having tenants. It all worked out and it's a huge relief. We love our house and moving is such a pain. It is wonderful that we get to stay.

You know how when you are facing something possibly bad you tend to bargain in your head with a higher power hoping that things will work out the way you want them to?  Like in our case I was thinking, "if only we didn't have to move, life would be perfect." Well human nature is such that the minute your problem isn't a problem anymore you go back to your old ungrateful self and start immediately complaining about something. And that's what I am going to do now. Because there is one problem with this house.  It is located next to the clubhouse. When we first moved in we thought the proximity to the clubhouse was a positive because we don't have a pool at our house and there is a pool there. The problem with the clubhouse is that it is the epicenter of noise.

There are two kinds of noise that emanate from the clubhouse grounds. One is the weekday noise that comes between about 3:00 and 5:00 when every kid in the neighborhood from babies to pre-teens migrate to the club house for the express purpose of screaming. Every afternoon my house is filled with the sounds pool splashing, counting (for hide and seek), yells of Marco followed by yells of Polo, crying, shrieking, nanny's yelling at kids, big wheels racing by and more. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking these are the wonderful sounds of happy children playing. You are thinking that if heaven has a soundtrack then it is the sound of delighted kids. You are thinking how wonderful that they are outside playing and not sitting inside playing video games. You are also thinking that you thought I loved kids because I take the time to work at the Diepsloot school twice a week. I do love going to the Diepsloot school and I do love the kids there but I go for an hour at a time and 95% of that time is spent telling the kids to be quiet.
  
But okay I can live with the weekday noise. The weekend noise is far worse. Every weekend on either Saturday or Sunday (thankfully there must be a rule against booking both) the clubhouse is exclusively booked for a party. 

Some of these parties are adult parties that include drunken noise and music. These aren't great because they tend to go later into the night. But the adult parties are much preferred over the kid parties. Why? Because of the dreaded element of the kid party. The mother $^!^#%#$%% bounce house. 

An SMS warns us of the upcoming party

As party setup begins, Mr. Deep and I start peering out the upstairs windows or standing on a chair to look over our wall, like Gladys Kravitz would do if she lived here, trying to determine what kind of party it's going to be. Then, the moment of truth comes when we hear the high pitched sound of what we now know is a bounce house being inflated. The bounce house is usually placed inches from our wall it's inflated columns peeking over the top. It's then we know that we are completely screwed because nothing produces endless hours of screaming quite like a bounce house. 

Oh you wanted to eat a nice dinner outside? Too bad. Oh you wanted to take a nap? That's not happening. Oh you wanted to watch a movie? Well I hope it doesn't contain any important dialogue because you won't be able to hear it.

bounce castle spires peeking above our wall

I need to pause here and say that when I was a kid and went to a birthday party the party was a) at the birthday kids' house and b) didn't include any type of special entertainment. You got cake and maybe you got some ice cream. You also got to watch the kid whose party it was open his/her presents. That was your live entertainment. And while we are on the subject, do you know how much combined time I spent bouncing around in a bounce house during my childhood? About ten minutes total. If I was lucky enough to go someplace like a fair or carnival where there was a bounce house there was no endless bouncing all afternoon. I bounced for a few minutes and then one of my parents stuck his or her head into the house and yelled that it was time to come out because we were leaving. I'm pretty sure the words, "that's enough fun for one day" were said and that was that. No, I was never indulged in an afternoon long bounce-a-thon.

Great, a puppet show! 

A sad deflated balloon hangs from a tree at the clubhouse. A reminder of a bygone party.

But back to birthday parties. Your parents dropped you off and then they picked you up. They did not accompany you to the party because they had better things to do like enjoy the fact that you weren't home. Well now it's a whole different ball game. The parents are at the party as well and the parties always include some type of horrible (loud) entertainment. Trust me I'm an expert. Since we moved in I estimate that we have been subjected to about 20 children's parties. These days it's all about face painting, water slides, bounce houses or its fancy cousin the more deluxe bounce castle, balloon animals, some weird dude dressed up as a clown or a cowboy and of course the mainstay of the party, endless high pitched screaming. The screaming only pauses long enough for the kids to eat some cake and then it resumes. It's like when you are hunkering down during a hurricane, and the rain and the winds slow you down and you think the storm is over, but no it was just the eye passing over and then the whole thing starts up again. 

I hope this young generation enjoys their bouncy childhood.

A bounce house mid inflation