Mi
Many Many years ago, on a family trip to Boston, we drove
around a historic area that was lined with small brick buildings. They were
reminiscent of the pictures one sees in history books. As we passed by Boston
Harbor, my children started to exclaim how they remembered learning about the
Boston Tea Party in elementary school. It brought back fond memories of the
Boston Tea Party that their teacher made since, in addition to the tea, they
also had cookies and cakes. This explained to me why the event was memorable,
however, as the conversation ensued, it became clear that there was a gross
misperception on their part.
As we continued past the harbor,
one of my children commented, “Wow, they must’ve wasted a lot of tea bags when
they threw all those boxes into the water.”
I craned my neck to look at her
through the rearview mirror and said, “What do you mean?”
“Well,” came the reply, “you know,
the boxes of tea. Didn’t you learn about the Boston Tea Party? It wasn’t a real
party; it was when the Americans threw all the tea bags into the harbor. I
wonder what brand they were. My favorite is Wissotsky’s Nana tea.”
Let’s just say that, as we
meandered away from the harbor, the history lesson took a new turn.
Tea parties with cookies and cakes
aren’t the only way to make a good impression on a young child. While staying
in a hotel one summer, one of my children commented that her all-time favorite vacation
occurred when she was about five years old. I was curious to know what made the
vacation so memorable. It might have been the trip we took to the water park,
or perhaps it was the animal safari and petting zoo we visited. We also went to
see some cousins, who took us out for a delicious dinner and a boat ride. Well,
it turns out that the amazing vacation that she had in mind was when we
stayed in a hotel that came with a free breakfast. Being limited in our
choices, the only thing available to my kids were the little boxes of sugar
cereals. Each child got to take two, one to eat now and one to eat later. Apparently,
that trumped all other forms of entertainment or activities. Think of all the
money I could have saved over the years if I had known that all it took to
please them was a few boxes of Froot Loops!
We all know that if kids really
want non-stop entertainment and activities, sleep-away camp is the place to be.
What kids don’t always realize is all the preparation that goes into sending
them off is meant to last for the whole summer. It’s not just that children
need to pack all their toiletries, clothing, bedding, sports equipment, and
food; they need to pack enough of
everything. There is no getting around it; this is a monumental task. Two weeks
prior to the big day, every surface of a household is covered with piles of
clothing and equipment. Walmart, CVS, and Rite-Aid bags line the hallways. Suitcases,
duffle bags, and backpacks are sprawled across the living room.
Many a mother breathes a sigh of
relief as she waves goodbye to her sweet darlings. Oftentimes, that relief is
short lived. One summer day, I made my first of three trips to the post office.
I was privileged to stand in line with two other mothers who were sending their
children “emergency” items, such as a bathing suit, a forgotten left shoe, and
a cell phone. This was despite the fact that our children had left a mere two
days earlier. Laughing (because crying would have been too embarrassing), we
paid the postage and innocently thought this would be the last time we would
find ourselves in this establishment. Fortunately, my other pilgrimages to the
post office were to send care packages filled with goodies. My friend, on the
other hand, had quite a different story. It turns out that her son, who was a
first-time camper, was sent off to camp with some clothing that was a bit
high-end. Apparently, his grandparents were quite involved in sending away
their sweetie pie and had purchased about two weeks-worth of name brand shirts
for him. The child, who was a little young for camp, kept calling home to ask
his mother to send him more shirts. After three of these requests, she finally
asked him why he needed more shirts each week. He exclaimed triumphantly,
“Because I started a business. My friends are paying me $5 for each shirt!”
Clothing isn’t the only area where
children’s perceptions take a detour from that of their adult counterparts. When
my nephew was about eight years old, my sister took him to the doctor for a
sprained ankle. The doctor explained to him that he would have to wear a brace
until his ankle felt better. Being an active child, my nephew was none too
pleased, so he asked the doctor if he would have to wear it all the time. In an
attempt to help my nephew understand that if he didn’t wear the brace all the
time it would create a problem, the doctor illustrated this by pointing to his
own glasses. He said to my nephew, “See these? I need them to help me see.” He
then took off the glasses and said to my nephew, “Now I have a problem. What’s my
problem?” Not realizing why the doctor had taken off his glasses, my nephew, after
careful consideration, replied, “I’m not sure which problem you’re referring
to.”
Although a family outing wasn’t the
problem the doctor was referring to, many of us have had the experience of
biting off more than we can chew when it comes to Chol Hamoed trips. Often, the
negotiations are enough to tire out an already weary parent. One Pesach, after
a lot of back and forth, my family finally agreed on an arcade. Now, usually I
am the first to roll my eyes at such a suggestion, however, going to this
arcade was like taking a walk down memory lane, albeit with blaring music and a
multitude of flashing lights. For anyone who grew up in the latter part of the
1900s, feel free to stroll along with me.
In this contemporary arcade, in
addition to pinball machines and a version of Pong, the first game Atari
invented, they also had Pacman. Instead of playing on a small screen, the board
was projected onto a screen that took up the size of an entire wall. I have to
admit, I spent the better part of the afternoon playing the game. The good news
is that I now hold the record for Pacman at this arcade. The bad news is that I
might need to see a hand specialist for my aching wrist.
After a while, I moved on to Skee-Ball.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Skee-Ball, let me explain it to you.
You play by rolling a baseball size ball up a ramp. With a hope and a prayer,
you pull your arm back, release the ball, and try to get it into a ring. The
smaller and farther away the ring is, the more points you get. This low-tech
game holds a place dear to my heart. When I was a little girl, there was an
amusement park near my house that we went to every summer. One summer, when I
was about six years old, my father played the game a few times and won enough
tickets to get prizes for me and my sister. He didn’t tell us about it, he
simply presented each of us with a beautiful strand of pink, plastic pearls. I
thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
On this particular outing with my
children, I got the ball into the far-right corner ring that is worth 10,000
points. This happened not once, but twice. I couldn’t help but see pink plastic
pearls flash before my eyes. I was definitely feeling the thrill of victory –
that is, until I noticed something somewhat subtle. It happened when my
daughter also decided to play. When she tried to
activate the game, she unfortunately swiped the card multiple times, not
realizing that it had already started. Not only were we now the proud
recipients of seven games of Skee-Ball, but we had also used up numerous
points on the activation card. You see, unlike in the olden days, when you used
to put a quarter in a slot, you now buy points that are uploaded onto a credit
card-like piece of plastic. Most of the games “cost” between 10 and 13
points. Multiply that by seven, and well, that’s a lot of points spent on Skee-Ball.
