Bouncy and the fat kid
Here is someting I wrote to Ben last week.
In November each year there is a street carnival in Harfield Village – just a few minutes’ walk down the road from the church. This year we had already been out most of the day and you were pretty tired – in fact it was one of the few times you fell asleep in the back of the car. But we took you and Jemma down in the prams for a look anyway. As soon as we got there you were dying for a go on the jumping castle (‘bouncey!’).
On our way back through the crowds I took you over for a go. But even before we got close I could see that it was full of older kids (6-10yr olds) who had turned it into a no holds barred fight ring. They were smashing each other around like it was a cage match in the WWE. What made it worse was that there was no open side, just 2 portholes you had to climb through to get in. Once you were in, you were in.
But you were starting to go nuts anyway so I fed you through the porthole and kept a hand on you with my head stuck in too. He kids almost stopped for a second as they saw you and my head. All except for this one massive fat kid who was already mid flight as he catapulted off the opposite wall. It all happened in a split second – he smashed into you, you both fell down and then you both got up again almost as quickly. I thought if that was all there was too it, then we might have been given a ‘get out of jail free’ card. Fat kid looked up sheepish as if to say, ‘Hey, I’m fat. It’s hard for me to slow down quick.’ You looked at him, you looked confused, then you looked at me. And then I’m guessing you realised that it really really hurt, and you burst into tears. I pulled you out, but no amount of comforting was going to help, you cried all the way home.
I remember feeling terrible. Bad that you got hurt, bad that you were so tired to begin with. But what made it even worse was that it was very difficult to blame anyone else but me for you getting squished. I could tell that it was too rough for you in there and I couldn’t blame the poor fat kid. Besides, as soon as he hit school, he would have enough problems of his own. Also, in that split second where I could see it all happening, I was so helpless to do anything about it. I couldn’t even get angry with the kid who ran into you (see fat kid comment above). I kind of felt like you went in there feeling ok about it because you knew I was there. Not coming through with the goods for you in that situation made me feel so bad.
Of course, all these thoughts of mine happened in about the same time it took you to get flattened, so it certainly wasn’t the end of the world for either of us. But I was overwhelmed by that feeling of wanting to protect you. It was the Harflied Village Carnival’s mini rebuke, reminder, warning and inspiration all in one.
In November each year there is a street carnival in Harfield Village – just a few minutes’ walk down the road from the church. This year we had already been out most of the day and you were pretty tired – in fact it was one of the few times you fell asleep in the back of the car. But we took you and Jemma down in the prams for a look anyway. As soon as we got there you were dying for a go on the jumping castle (‘bouncey!’).
On our way back through the crowds I took you over for a go. But even before we got close I could see that it was full of older kids (6-10yr olds) who had turned it into a no holds barred fight ring. They were smashing each other around like it was a cage match in the WWE. What made it worse was that there was no open side, just 2 portholes you had to climb through to get in. Once you were in, you were in.
But you were starting to go nuts anyway so I fed you through the porthole and kept a hand on you with my head stuck in too. He kids almost stopped for a second as they saw you and my head. All except for this one massive fat kid who was already mid flight as he catapulted off the opposite wall. It all happened in a split second – he smashed into you, you both fell down and then you both got up again almost as quickly. I thought if that was all there was too it, then we might have been given a ‘get out of jail free’ card. Fat kid looked up sheepish as if to say, ‘Hey, I’m fat. It’s hard for me to slow down quick.’ You looked at him, you looked confused, then you looked at me. And then I’m guessing you realised that it really really hurt, and you burst into tears. I pulled you out, but no amount of comforting was going to help, you cried all the way home.
I remember feeling terrible. Bad that you got hurt, bad that you were so tired to begin with. But what made it even worse was that it was very difficult to blame anyone else but me for you getting squished. I could tell that it was too rough for you in there and I couldn’t blame the poor fat kid. Besides, as soon as he hit school, he would have enough problems of his own. Also, in that split second where I could see it all happening, I was so helpless to do anything about it. I couldn’t even get angry with the kid who ran into you (see fat kid comment above). I kind of felt like you went in there feeling ok about it because you knew I was there. Not coming through with the goods for you in that situation made me feel so bad.
Of course, all these thoughts of mine happened in about the same time it took you to get flattened, so it certainly wasn’t the end of the world for either of us. But I was overwhelmed by that feeling of wanting to protect you. It was the Harflied Village Carnival’s mini rebuke, reminder, warning and inspiration all in one.
posted by Scott at
6:45 PM
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