The weather forecast read, ‘Sunny with moderate winds, a maximum of 16 degrees Celsius, with the occasional showers in the afternoon’.
That was enough to bring out the neighbourhood children, wrapped in their puffer jackers, their beanies, gumboots and mittens. After a prolonged wet spell of rain, parents were keen to get their children out to the local park which included a bicycle track and an outdoor children’s play area. What looked like a pirate ship with tunnels, slides, nets, ladders and poles to climb up and slide down on. There was even a wooden board for those who were made to “walk the plank”.
This particular weekend I had my two grandchildren stay over. After breakfast, Papa (that’s me) agreed to take them to the park to climb and run around with the other kids in the neighbourhood.
I gathered their bicycles and made sure the kids were appropriately wrapped with sufficient clothes to keep the cold away. As we were getting ready to leave, their Nana did a quick inspection to ensure they wore their beanies, even though they disliked wearing them. She also reminded me not to get them wet. A hard thing to do with boys, as they seem to be naturally attracted to puddles of water. I believe little boys are possessed with the instinct to stomp in puddles just to see how big a splash they can make. Once done, it’s enough for them to move on.
As I sat on a park bench adjacent to the playground, keeping an eagle eye out for the boys, I noticed lots of children of various shapes and sizes and ethnic background playing together. Some were probably even making first time friends as they played. Many of their parents were either sitting on the benches circling the play area or were having just as much fun frolicking in and out of the make-believe pirate ship.
Then, to the corner of my eye, I noticed a man and a little girl, probably a father and daughter walking towards the playground. They didn’t look as though they were from the neighbourhood, but nevertheless the father strode with confidence with the little girl skipping with excitement as they got closer to the slide, on the far side of the pirate-ship.
Whether the scenario is of a father and daughter or a mother and son, the portrayal of a parent with a small child reminded me of a heartwarming scene in the city of Chennai, India many years ago.
Amidst the hundreds of people walking along the footpath stooped a father, straightening his three-year-old daughter’s pretend cut-out crown. With his wife by his side, nursing an infant child, the father play-acted as court jester, making his daughter laugh incessantly with every twist of his head, prancing steps, raised eye-brows and singing a song I could not understand. His wife smiled warmly as she witnessed her husband’s antics.
To every child, a mum or dad is the ‘world’ to them. Take away the latest toy or electronic gadget, remove the branded outfit and the branded sneakers what’s really left is the heart of one human child in relationship with an older human parent. The bond of child to a parent is unique, and as time rolls on as both grow old, the love of one for the other reverses as the child, now a grown man or woman, returns that unconditional love to the parent who once cared for them, but who is now old, frail and perhaps bed-ridden.
This picture which appeared in my Facebook feed some time ago really touched me as it reminded me of what I saw in the streets of India. Despite the image of poverty, the caption read, “Both facing poverty, but the daughter still sees her dad as a king and he sees her as his whole world”.
As you as parents read this, be reminded of the investment we make in the lives of our children. Proverbs speak of training a child in the way they should be and when they are old they will not depart from it. Grandparents too have a responsibility to encourage and teach. As the Psalmist writes, “Teach us to realize the shortness of life, so that we may grow in wisdom”.
The dark clouds were gathering to the west of the playground and with the wisdom of Solomon, I knew that the rains were coming earlier than forecast. I gathered the two boys and headed home. They were still wearing their beanies and they played sufficiently long enough for their trousers to be dry when we got home. Nana was happy, and to hear the boys say, “I love you Papa” was enough for me to want to do it again.
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