Playing

 I wish there was a single picture, meme, or GIF to describe how my kids play with one another. With other kids, they are total people pleasers but when together its a mix of manic spiraling aggressiveness bookended by spinning giggle attacks or hot hot tears.

I called them over on time, when i was on the stoop and asked "Are you guys having fun? Is this fun for you?"

And they said, "Yes, but not so much. Lets go back inside."

First, there is only a semblance of a game. There are pieces. Madcap Lego creations and cool shape sticks and piles of rocks. Stuffed animals especially the myriad Beanie Boo stuffies.  They are the original Beanie Babies made a bit larger and with dilated cat high on cat nip eyes. 

And the kids will clutch these in the crook of their arm or tucked into their shirts while they prowl around each other uttering the same cadence.

Now, pretend...

"Now, pretend that I have super powers."

"Now, pretend that in this story I am married but my wife isn't here."

"Now, pretend they got hurt."

"Now, pretend the wheel on his car fell off."

Now, pretend, pretend, pretend, pretend.

Its playing by going two steps forward and one step back.

Kid 1: "Ok. Now, pretend that I have a laser on my ship. Ok...ZAAAAPPPPP!"

Kid 2: "Ok, now pretend that they didn't get shot they jumped in a hole. JUMP!"

Kid 1: "No! Pretend that the hole was closed up by a monster and..."

Kid 2: "Now, pretend that they dug using their claws."

When I was young my dad would tease me by saying McDonalds, in the fast food joint, as McDougals and it got under my skin for some dumb reason. Like when you go to someone's house and they hang the toiler paper wrong or having dinner at a friend's house and the shock when they say grace before a meal. Maybe, my heathen family should?

In any case, I like to channel my dad and just iterate to the kids "Pretend, pretend, pretend, pretend" which drives them insane but serves them right since playing is more a stylized kid kabuki. 

There is also a dance to this. A sort of prowling West Side Story bit where they circle each other and also bounce from end to end. The couches at opposing ends of the living room. The ends of the driveway. A certain pile of sticks in the yard. With all their gear, particularly the sticks, which are often dragged because they got armloads of Ash Dragon and Asia and Santa Gangster Snowman stuffed animals, its a baby war dance.

The ritual ends when one decides to just say fuck it and declare themselves out. Note, this can often be me because its inane and non-sensical. "Can you guys just play. Instead of saying "Now, pretend" maybe just try He jumps, you jump. She flies, you dig underground!"

My kids need no ball. They just need their chant and a wide enough sidewalk to keep them at bay. 

Saving this space

 Above the gym door, twenty feet elevated from the padded mat wall pads, there are these faint star bursts of permanent stains. Its a fancy holo stamp of water stains and grime etched into the brick. Around one of them are dirty, gummy peppered globs of some red sticky shit. Someone, years ago in the 90s, took a fistful of gummi bears and just catapulted them against the walls. And they have been there, for nearly 30 years, digging into the wall and pulling away from their edges. 

Thirty years ago there were arguments over who could clean them. 

"That is not my job," said everyone

"My union contract says I can't get on a ladder," said the cleaner.

"My union contract says I don't clean," said the custodian.

So, thirty years later, volunteers scrub away at the splotches. Using long reach scrubby pads called Doodle Bugs and buckets of warm water swimming with Bar Keeper's Friend. BKF is the cleaning truth. These are the products one will use to save this space. Whether we turn it into a new school or wonky wide hallway apartment buildings the survival kit includes

BFK, because see above

WD40, to make things move when they don't

Duct Tape, to make things stop when they don't

A convertible screwdriver that flips between flat head and Phillips

A wrecking bar for all the abandoned furniture that needs smashing before one can drag it to the dumpster. 

Extension cords

Looped mop heads and a bucket for each floor.

A broom on each floor and a broom tucked into each corner office. One should never be less than 25 feet from a broom. 

With all these we will strip the veneer off railings and banisters. Cover up friable asbestos and go check on it later. Mend steam leaks and dripping pipes until we get those guys arguing over union contracts.

A Little Bit Louder

 In a circular bit of logic, I was asked to find a headset when what it really was a portable amplifier someone wears on their hip. And you look like a jungle cruise tour guide (all one needs is the pith helmet and khaki shorts) going around the office chatting with clients. Crouching down in front of a circle of kids on the green carpet and enunciating out your vowel sounds. 

And everything blasts out from your hip.

"Hey, why is your belt talking?"

"Did your butt just say 'I will follow up on that?'"

I advised this person to possibly talk a bit louder. if not, I will need to look at some concert style AV. "What works for Robert Plant would work for us!" said the boss. Indeed, it does.