Chaos on the Monkey Bars

I've been taking my granddaughter Sasha (Grandpa's Little Supernova of Joy) to the park to play. The weather had been nice, and it seemed like the best option for the day. She loves playing in the play area Castle Fortress, which the adult world called playground equipment when the older kids didn’t dominate it.

The other families are, more often than not, very nice.

There are also clean, covered places to eat and multiple benches on which to sit.

All in all, it is a great place to take a four-year-old little girl with enough energy to power a small Midwest city.

It's also a scene of a rebirth of feudalism and class structure worthy of Chaucer.

This past Thursday, I took Sahato to the park and watched the dance unfold.

I felt like Jane Goodall watching the chimps.

When we arrived at the park, it was 2:30, and there was already a handful of older children, about ages six to ten, playing and enjoying general kid nonsense.

All the things you hear and read about children being more spoiled with screens and whatnot is, in my opinion, bullshit. They’re no more spoiled than we were with television.

But I digress.

There was one girl whose family had snacks they were willing to share with the rest of the children, who were the undisputable Queen of the Castle Fortress. She had the power to provide food and drink, and thus, she was beloved and had all of the power.

There was also a knot of boys. One of them had a scooter, and two had gloves and a baseball. They dominated the areas around the Castle Fortress.

Most of the larger, more athletic boys glommed onto them.

In terms of medieval hierarchy, these were the knights standing around and waiting for an enemy to fight.

When the invaders arrived, they were in the form of three tween boys.

These kids had that look, and we all know it from elementary school. They were looking to make some kids cry and prove how big and bad they were.

They entered the play area and proceeded to attempt a takeover of the Castle Fortress.

They took the baseball and the scooter from the knights and attempted to evict the Queen from her Throne. If not for the arrival of the giants, two of the kid's parents, there may have been an overthrow of the Playground Monarchy.

In the end, violence, in the form of yelling, screaming, and crying, was avoided, and all was well in the Playground Queendom. Snacks were shared with the invaders, turning them into allies. The scooter and baseball were peaceably shared, and a good time was had by all.

But where was Sasha, you ask?

Outside of the mishigas, a small clot of younger kids congregated. These were the ones Sasha gravitated to. They ignored the entirety of the potential war for the Throne around them. Instead, they played a lively game of tag and passed around the kickball Sasha had brought. To these blissfully unaware kids, there was no power structure. There were no cliques. And there was no conflict.

I dread the day Sasha learns the way the world really works.

I want her to enjoy kickballs, tag, and snacks for the rest of her days.

- Josh (05/08/2024)