Uncle Roger's Notebooks of Daily Life |
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Introduction My life is, to me, ripe with frequent challenges, occasional successes, spontaneous laughter, adequate tears, and enough *life* to last me a lifetime. To you, however, it surely seems most pedestrian. And therefore, I recycle the name I used previously and call this my Notebooks of Daily Life. Daily, because it's everyday in nature, ordinary. These conglomeration of events that are my life are of interest to me because I live it, perhaps mildly so to those who are touched by it, and could only be of perverse, morbid curiosity to anyone else. Yet, I offer them here nonetheless. Make of them what you will, and perhaps you can learn from my mistakes. Sinasohn.Net
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Thursday, April 29, 2004 I took Jared to his "class" today. It's not a class in the ordinary sense, although the kids definitely learn things. It's a program offered by the Recreation & Parks department at Sunset Recreation Center. The class is called "Tiny Tots" and consists mainly of free play followed by a few songs and a bit of parachute play. The class is held in a sort of auditorium and there are, initially, all manor of toys out and about -- ride-ons, stuffed animals, balls, and cardboard building blocks. There are two tables at the back of the room, one with Play-Doh and assorted tools, molds, and the like, and another with lots of small toys. There is a plastic house -- Little Tykes, Step 2, or similar -- and a small, plastic climbing structure with a slide of the same type. At first, Jared is not interested at all, even to the point of crying and clinging to me. Too many people for him, I think. I generally sit down with him on the mats and build towers using the cardboard blocks, which he likes to knock down. After a bit -- it gets shorter each time -- he gets into it and starts playing. He does try to head for the door, occasionally, but I stick close to him and head him off. Just before the end, the director calls for clean-up time and all the kids (well, most, anyway) bring the toys and stuff over to the storage closet to be put away. This helps teach the kids to clean up after themselves when they're done, of course. Jared still needs work in this area. After everything is put away, all the kids and their parents sit in a big circle to sing some songs. They hit all the calsses, including the ABC song, Twinkle Twinkle, The Wheels on the Bus, The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and so on. Lastly, the director brings out a parachute to play some games. The parents hold the edge of the chute while the kids go underneath, in the middle. The parents variously ruffle the parachute or lift and drop it on the kids, depending on the song. So there we were, singing "London Bridge is Falling Down", lifting the parachute way up high, then dropping it down low on the kids in the center. The parachute goes up, and there's Jared in the middle. Then it goes down. It goes up, and there's Jared, over on the opposite side. The chute goes down. It goes up, and I don't see Jared. Okay, so maybe he's behind another kid or an adult, or I just didn't see him amongst all the kids. It goes down. No sign of him anywhere else in the room. It goes up. Sure enough, he's not under there. It goes down. He's not in the room. I dropped my corner of the parachute and headed for the hallway. The hallway was empty. I look out the window in one of the doors and there is Jared, all the way on the other side of the playground, headed for the swings. I was out the door in an instant, running like Darwin's car. I scooped him up and brought him back inside. Then I settled in to finish my heart attack.
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