I live in the world of children, which I would prefer over the adult version any day. To be honest, immaturity has a better grip on life in some ways, and I have learned more from munchkins than all the adults I know combined. The longer you live in this world of young, the more influence you have. Just walking through the door of my church immediately endows me with the the responsibility of either emergency room, witness protection program, or United Nations; sometimes all three.
The first thing I do is scan the room and take in the state of society: Small clusters of children roam the church together, and are never separated unless some great crises has occurred. As a rule, these clusters never mix, unless a united effort is needed against some greater difficulty. Usually everything is quiet, all simmering concoctions of childish creativity being held in check by excessive adult presence. By the end of the service, however, these ideas have all incubated, hatched, and fled the coup.
This past week, I assumed my usual place at the back, with an empty pew to collect any leftover children that need asylum. Soon I had two little boys ages 4 and 5, toting backpacks stuffed with crackers, toy cars, and the universal favorites: inch-high, brightly colored, rubber ninjas. (Now to be honest, I never understood the ninja craze. Every kid from the age of 3 to 13 is obsessed with the idea of silent, mummy-wrapped figures that do splits and throw sharp pieces of metal.)
Throughout the church service, I had to constantly monitor the noise production of the car-ninja action move premiering in the back pew. The decibels steadily increased until I told the little guys, Alan and Tiger, that if the ninjas could not be quiet they would have to rest. This resulted in several ninjas and cars being incarcerated in my purse till the boys could settle down. When I returned them, an interesting conversation ensued.
Me: "Here's your ninjas, do you think they can be quiet now?"
Alan: "No, they have to fight, like this, see?"
This was demonstrated by one figure squashing his little rubber sword into another, resulting in the dramatic death of the second ninja.
Me: "No,no, Ninjas don't do that! Here I'll show you what they do."
At this I took two of them, pressed their faces together and made loud smooching noises.
Alan: (eyes wide in horror) "NO! NO! They don't do that! They have to fight."
Me: "No look, see they're happy!" (More smooching)
This continued for several minutes until Alan pocketed the figures, mumbling something about my ignorance.
Chuckling, I sat back, suddenly realizing how this related to the event of last Wednesday night....after every prayer meeting the parents are apt to stay late and talk, which leaves their offspring free to release themselves out into the night, mainly headed for the playset just out the side door. Whatever games you think your children play, I suggest you watch what they do when it is dark and they are by themselves. You will learn quite a bit about why world events happen the way they do.
The game most always involves chasing, tackling, and hostage-keeping, usually on a team-against-team basis. My assumed role in this is generally United Nations (or what United Nations is supposed to be) I am never on a team, but am the one who makes sure everything is played fair and no one gets hurt. Because of this, all complaints come to me.
Girl: "Emma, Jaime pulled my hair!"
Me: "Jamie, it's unfair to take advantage of that."
Jaime: "Ok" (limps away)
Me: "What's the matter?"
Jamie: Jesse was chasing me and then Payden tackled me and I fell like this and hurt my knee. Can I sit?"
Me: "Sure."
More difficulties come about when the members of one team arbitrarily switch to the other team. This usually generates much complaint from the deceived team, but they adapt very quickly. My top priority goes to calls like, "Ow!", "Stop!", "No!" etc. When this happens I go to investigate and put a stop to whatever was responsible for the injustice, make sure that those who are tired get to rest, and those who are hurt have a "safe" place to go nurse their wounds, Whatever is unfair, hurtful, or inconsiderate is "against the rules" and enforced by me. This makes the game much more fun since the outcome down depends on the skill or efficiency of the team instead of who can butcher the other players.
Sooner or later the parents come to collect their kids, who then come running to me for any jackets, water bottles or backpacks they have left in my safekeeping. As one little girl walked away giggling, I heard her comment to a friend,
"Why do we always play this? All we do is chase and tackle and we don't even have a reason."
"Just because it's fun I guess." He replied.
Whatever the UN has to deal with, kids have it all figured out. But since there won't be any 10-year-old senators anytime soon, I'll go back to making Ninjas kiss instead of fight.
