Come take a seat, rest your hands, needles, hook and let me share these tales with you. As you may have realized by my writings I love kids, people in general, but ever since I had my girl I started appreciating kids even more.
Having worked with kids and pre teens for over 15 years -in the English school as an ELS instructor- helped me to kind of grasp their minds, and moves.
They change, grow and move on everyday.
It is not easy.
So I will dedicate this page to writing about them. The kids around me, starting from the stories in the townhouse condo I live where in Canada, and going back to the memories from experiences I had with them in the past.
All the tales here are for real. Names have been changed, facts not, hope you enjoy them.
Tale # 1
About boys and dolls
-“It is alright if they play with the dolls! Hey Allan*, take this barbie, which one do you want? Cinderella or what?”
-“I want the one in the pink dress, I love pink.” Said the 5-year-old boy.
-“No you don’t, you are a boy! You don’t really mean it.” replied his elder brother. Who was also taking part of the game.
The other girls were in a sort of shock, as he looked at Betty, the girl who had just backed him up to see in her eyes if he could throw the real answer, because she still seemed O.K. with that. He finally let go:
-” I do, I do, I love dollies, I actually like pink, and I prefer girls toys, ’cause they are so much more fun!”
At the sound of that, the other three girls laughed out loud. Betty then just went like:
-” Guys it is alright, don’t laugh because he likes to play in the doll house.”
Since it is hers and everyone else felt like playing there too soon the prejudice faded away.
She did right, I was proud of her! After a while my husband came down, didn’t quite get the picture and said why are those boys there? Six kids on that dollhouse? Isn’t that too much?
I agreed, but our daughter had done so well I didn’t want to be the one to spoil that game. They got to stay for 40 more minutes, ’till it was bath time.
When everyone was gone, I let her know how proud of her I was I was, to which she simply replied:
-“Remember the other day when you and Daddy told me boys might become better parents if they got to play with dolls too? I really think they can be nice daddies one day…”
P.S.: Kids ages: boys 5 and 8. Girls 6,6,7 and 9. *Names were changed for obvious reasons.
Hey, Look at me!
As I looked at her, all by herself against the white fence of the house opposite to mine, I thought to myself, poor little one…
It all started early that Friday, about a month ago, but I had seen it coming, it started a few days before. The way the girl was constantly hanging around, asking everyone, even my Betty, to play with her.
Yes, Betty did play with her once in a while, though given to the fact that their ages differ a bit (Maggie had turned 11 and Betty is only 6), there were few games left for them to play with.
As the days went by, summer was even nicer, warmer, brighter; all Maggie wanted was a bit of attention. Her mother was a sort of unknown character, never seen around. It was said that she had left them a few years after Maggie was born, along with a brother. Apparently she has now a step mom, some say she is her aunt. We don’t know for sure.
All I know is that, that Friday, her “mother” did it! She came by for the first time and she saw her “daughter” sulky, lonely and upset. She wondered why. Maggie promptly replied, “Everyone is being rude to me”.
Feeling uneasy for once she bluntly asked, “How rude? ” “They keep saying mean things to me,”Maggie answered. “They who?” asked the mother.
Maggie pointed at the third house next to where she was. From my upstairs window, behind the drapes, I was able to follow her with my eyes. She dashed to the house’s backyard, knocking at the glass door there was no answer. She did not have better luck at the door bell either. She turned to Maggie and said, “Come on, let’s go, I’m calling the police”.
At those words, I went after her to try to understand what was going on. “Hi, can I help you?” She simply looked at me, turned around and left, cell phone on her right ear.
I called Maggie. “Hey, what is going on?” She was afraid,”Nothing,” and ran home as fast as she could.
Betty and her friend Lisa were playing in the basement. I said, “Lisa, fetch your mom, I want to talk to her.” But she had gone to the mall. Her brother was supposed to baby sit her. “Ok, so you stay here. Maggie’s mom called the police and I don’t want little girls around when they come.”
… … …
It turned out she didn’t call the police, but the afternoon was covered with failed attempts of mothers trying to talk to each other. Other neighbors were getting involved when the truth started to come out. Maggie had been left aside for having done things such as:
-bringing her dog to frighten the small kids;
-spitting and peeing in people’s backyard at daylight;
-using kids’ toys without permission, and running away not to give the toys back;
-having a dirty loud mouth.
Maggie is a good-looking slender, blond, blue-eyed pre-teen. She is also such a tom boy, parents don’t want their kids to have anything to do with her.
On the other hand, she was the only one who didn’t laugh at Betty when she accidently fell into the pool, and ran back home crying out of humiliation. Betty remained home for the rest of the day, being Maggie the only one she allowed near her. Maggie never spit in my yard or said the “s” word, never being unkind to Betty. To me, she was just trying to call people’s attention.
Her mother never bothered to acknowledge that.
… … …
Later that afternoon, Betty and I left to see a movie.
The offenses between both moms went on. At a certain time, Lisa’s mom was pushed and said, “now I’m calling the police!”
And they came indeed.
Everyone was against Maggie, she was sort of banned and advised by the cops to stay away from the little kids.
Poor little one! Maggie, who had no one to play with, had now been banned! It hurt me so much not being able to say a word on her behalf when it all took place. I wish I could have done something for her. I wanted her to be happy, to feel loved, to feel special. Instead the only thing she got was to be set aside.
What is in store for her? She is only 11, I mean, she is already 11!
Tale # 3
We all have brown hair!-even though she is blond.
I love kids so much, that I have the feeling they know it ´cause mostly everywhere I go they gather around me, and engage into a never ending conversation.
We all know I would volunteer at my daughter’s new school. It took me a few week to do so, but I eventually did.
Thanks to the fact that the teacher understood my will to do something, and add to it to her urge to have help with the kids. I now have a place to go every week at least twice a week, and work with them.
Some times we do some Science Projects which mainly involves painting- hooray colors!
In other situations I help out alphabetizing some of the kids who were not exposed as much to the world of words, and therefore do not know much about it-yet.
It took me a little bit over 4 visits to get more familiar with them, now I always get tons of hugs, delicious ones!
What made me so happy today was this small moment, a particular event when the following took place:
As that gorup composed of 3 girls came in, one of them looked at me, as she usually does and kindly said:
-Hey look we all have dark hair!
I was caught by surprise I confess, remember I am mulata? She is blond, green eyed, we have absolutely nothing in common.
“Do you mean I have brown hair? Iam supposed to you know?…- She interrupted me- ‘No I mean we all here in the room have dark hair you see?’, there she lifted hers in order to show me a thin layer of dark blond hair. Coincidently Betty was in that group, and quickly tried to explain her friend better:
“She means we all have dark hair because her hair is not as light, as the other girls’.”
The other -blond in that small group said:
“Yeah we all have kind of dark hair!”-Fact is none of them does…except for Betty and I.
There they were, so happy about and resting their case! I admitted they were right, and went on with the project, as I still had many more kids to go.
… … …
I learned once again that kids see whatever they want to, because they do see things in their hearts.
It does not mean they are stupid, and do not realize the skin color, they see past that, and in the attempt to make a connection and then validate the fact that they may like the different, and at the same time different is similar.
That girl kind of escaped from reality itself and brought from the imaginary world a similarity she could find and manage.
This is something only kids can see, work and live with:
WE ARE ALL THE SAME, indeed.
take good care,