Friday, March 14, 2014

Play Group

Right now, there are six little three- and four-year-olds in my playroom. The boys are searching for cars, which we don't have many of anymore--not enough little boys around here for my taste. One boy is unhappy because he feels another won't let him do the Batman elevator. Betsy is a little worried that one of her friends is drawing in her coloring book. Someone is throwing blocks, which we all agree is unsportsmanlike. In  a minute I'm going to break out a page protectors where the kids can practice tracing their names.

Fridays are Betsy's favorite day of the week because Friday is playgroup. She and about six of our little neighborhood friends rotate houses each week. We play, do a snack, maybe a little activity. Social Betsy loves it.

I've done playgroups like this since approximately 1999. Not too many more are in my quiver.
There's nothing more delightful and good in the deepest, fullest senses of the word than clumps of little children playing together. To me the charming thing about toddlers and preschoolers is that their tiny, ridiculous, pudgy bodies contain fully actualized human beings--with infinite personality, and uniqueness, and unknowableness--in shockingly immature form. I mean, what was it like to be a person who could come to tears over the sharing of a coloring book, who felt no compunction in asking a woman to unbutton one's pants, who could unabashedly demand that one's apple slices come without peels?

One part of me is more than ready to say good-bye to a phase of life in which one's houseguests are likely to pee on the back porch. But another big part cannot fathom how a life without things like playgroup and washable markers and Fisher-Price Little People--and the little people who play with them--wouldn't be a flat and empty.

1 comment:

  1. *sigh* this was a good thing for me to read right now. Beautiful imagery.