The Trail of Tears

Today was a beautiful, sunny day in New Jersey (insert air pollution jokes here). My oldest had a playdate in the neighborhood and instead of piling the rest of the family into my suburban assault vehicle (read: minivan) I decided to take my younger two and the dog for a stroll to pick her up. My middle one is almost four years old and to avoid the "but why does she get to ride in the stroller?" argument from my eldest, I left the double jogger at home and decided #2 and I would hoof it while pushing His Highness in his rig. To make sure I wasn't asking too much of her short little legs I mapquested the address and it was exactly half a mile - five cross-town blocks - I thought she could handle that and we all set off.

The walk there was lovely. Other than having to scream at her a few times as she jumped off the sidewalk, and threatening the dog with death each time he pulled on the leash, we spent a nice half an hour pointing out budding flowers and picking up sticks to drag behind us to further slow us down. We arrived on time and instead of my usually chipper older daughter, I was presented with a child who was hot from running around outside and crabby from not eating her lunch. When she was confronted with the sight of us, sans van, she complained mightily. "But I don't want to waaaaaalk. I'm tiiiiiired." To which I responded, "Well, unless you can fly, we're walking." Thus began our long, long journey home. We walked for about a block in silence, or rather, she was silent as I peppered her with questions about her day. Then she began her complaining in earnest. "I'm thirsty. Did you bring me a drink? Why is it so faaaar? I don't want to walk anymooooore." Then my younger one discovered that we were playing a round of Annoy Mommy to Death and began protesting as well. You would think we were walking The Trail of Tears the way these two carried on. After finally, and loudly, telling them both to put a sock in it we walked the rest of the way home in relative peace as I
seethed inside.

Do these kids have any idea how good they have it? Not to get all "I walked to school uphill - both ways", but kids today are chauffeured around like royalty. God forbid their tender little feet hit the pavement for more than five minutes or for anything other than their own enjoyment - say for locomoting themselves purposefully between two destinations. No wonder kids today are so damn fat and lazy. We live about a quarter of a mile from the elementary school, as do a lot of other families in the neighborhood and everyone drives their kid to school. Now, I am guilty as well because I'd rather put a bullet in my head than have to get all three kids out the door an extra thirty minutes early to walk, but once my first born is old enough to walk to school and participate in the "check in" program (for the safety of kids who walk) she is hittin' those bricks.

The other thing I thought about relating to this lack of motion is the fact that modern parents feel they have to be outside with their kids participating in whatever activity they are enjoying or at least watching them lest they be snatched out of our yards. This seriously reduces the amount of time kids spend out of doors since I know, personally, I actually have to do some things to keep this house running and everyone alive and can't be in the back jumping rope all afternoon. Remember the good ole days when kids were kicked them out of the house until dinner time? While this is certainly something I would not do, I see nothing wrong with forcing my two out into the fenced-in backyard for some fresh air and sunshine without my having to be activities director. To facilitate my absence I have refused to get a swing set until the youngest one is smart enough to get out of the way of the swings. What good is my yard if I have to stand there watching them like a hawk so we don't wind up in the emergency room? They have found plenty to entertain themselves between the sandbox and eight billion ride-on toys. Whenever I'm feeling particularly guilty about not playing developmentally appropriate games with them all day I remind myself that back in Colonial times they would not only know not to bother Mommy while she's churning the butter or carding the wool, but they'd be helping me or be locked in the barn. Industrial Revolution? Never mind jacks and hopscotch, those tiny little appendages are just the right size for turning lead-laced bolts on an assembly line. While these might not have been the golden ages in terms of childhood, at least kids learned they wouldn't die if they physically exerted themselves participating in anything other than during an adult supervised recreational activity.

So PARENTS UNITE! Kick your kids out into the yard. Make them walk or ride their bike somewhere because you simply refuse to drive them, not because you can't. And no, you can't come outside and play right now because you have things to do - laundry, cooking, Law & Order reruns to catch up on - but you will when you're done. Because I'm not saying to completely ignore your kids, but you were a kid already - and you walked your own ass to the park.