Playtime

I took my children out to play today. In fact, I take them most days, weather* permitting. I suppose I should consider myself rather fortunate that I have the time and opportunity to do so. Indeed I do.

I think I mentioned it elsewhere, but it was the sight of children playing happily that opened my eyes and mind to the idea that fatherhood may not be such a bad idea for yours truly. So it was that this morning I made a point of really watching and enjoying what they were up to. It was nothing special. Nothing Youtubeworthy. Just the boy trying to figure out how to get a Frisbee to skim under the main entrance gate, while the girl simply took every opportunity presented to her to toss the very same Frisbee any which way she could. Such pleasure she found in the thing dropping three feet behind her, while the boy was thrilled to bits when effort number 7,844 finally dipped, swooped, skipped and floated to the desired conclusion. Oh, and one time, the Frisbee actually landed on one of the gate’s cross-members. Now that really was a moment – for an almost nine-year-old wishing I’d caught it on camera.

The point is, I was sat there just watching and thinking. Mostly I was thinking how envious I was that these two little people were free to be free. Free of any worries about anything. How I hated them just in that fleeting moment. So innocent. So beautiful. So young.

Just before you think this is sounding far too unfamiliar, the very fact that I have just written this has led my thoughts to darker corners of my mind. I know it’s going to sound terribly grumpy old man-esque, and like I’ve got nothing better to do but point out weird stuff done by everyone else but me, but hear me out and tell me if I’m completely out of time and place. Here’s a question for mums and dads. Why take your kids to the park so you can sit and spend yet more time glued to your smartphones? Seriously, I sometimes want to weep at the state of the modern mindset. We all know that childhood is gone in a flash. Leave the fucking things in your pocket. Just for half an hour. Go on. Give it a try.

It bears stressing the point. Had I been checking Facebook or Twitter earlier, I’d have missed the boy landing the Frisbee on the gate. He’d have been heartbroken. I’d have felt like shit.

*Weather and other commitments, that is. The weather here is generally good, albeit too good at times, in the sense that it starts to boil in April and stays that way for much of the following six months. Typical bloody Brit, moaning about the weather, eh? Yup.