Liberty
On my walk between home and work, I pass a childcare center. The building is set off from the road, with a large play area sloping down towards the street with a fence and formed shrubbery providing the only separation between the outside world and the pre-K world.
Very infrequently do I pass by when the children are out in the yard playing.
But even less frequently do I pass by when there are not toys scattered all over the shrubs, sidewalk, and even into the street.
Sometimes it seems that the game of the hour (or rather the 30 seconds until the children got caught) was to throw every item within reach overboard. Rubber balls, giant puzzle pieces, Barbie's dishes.
I half expect to walk by some day and find a younger child has been thrown over the fence.
I nearly took the time to look for one when I discovered an empty shoe.
But perhaps the empty shoe, the matchbox car, and the other escapees of the toy box are like Noah's dove or a Mars rover... sent out to gather information about an unknown landscape.
As I toss the toys back into the land of tricycles and sandboxes, I wonder if I should include clues about the outside world in these airborne explorers.
"We don't get naps... we don't imagine with Barney or exercise with the Teletubbies... we don't get squeeze yogurt... and we have to tie our own shoes!"
But it would all be for nought because I'm sure they are convinced that liberty lies just on the other side of the fence.
Very infrequently do I pass by when the children are out in the yard playing.
But even less frequently do I pass by when there are not toys scattered all over the shrubs, sidewalk, and even into the street.
Sometimes it seems that the game of the hour (or rather the 30 seconds until the children got caught) was to throw every item within reach overboard. Rubber balls, giant puzzle pieces, Barbie's dishes.
I half expect to walk by some day and find a younger child has been thrown over the fence.
I nearly took the time to look for one when I discovered an empty shoe.
But perhaps the empty shoe, the matchbox car, and the other escapees of the toy box are like Noah's dove or a Mars rover... sent out to gather information about an unknown landscape.
As I toss the toys back into the land of tricycles and sandboxes, I wonder if I should include clues about the outside world in these airborne explorers.
"We don't get naps... we don't imagine with Barney or exercise with the Teletubbies... we don't get squeeze yogurt... and we have to tie our own shoes!"
But it would all be for nought because I'm sure they are convinced that liberty lies just on the other side of the fence.
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