Raking, the mind wanders. Out in the wind Sunday, two thoughts came skittering through my head.
The first was of pine needles. A thousand or so years ago, in the fading light of November afternoons, my father and I would rake up pine needles.
Loading the prickly piles into a wheelbarrow, we’d hardly talk. Sometimes I’d ride on top as my dad steered his cargo to the alley and the inferno of a rusty burn barrel.
Back then, you could burn. We’d stand by the fire getting smoky, warming our hands. November was November – no lights, no glitz and a long way from Christmas.
My second thought Sunday was of Monsters Inc., the Disney on Ice production that just played the Everett Events Center. I tossed it aside like pitching pine needles onto a fire – but not before a brief attack of the shoulds.
I should surprise him. I should call and see if there are tickets. I should take my 6-year-old to Disney on Ice.
Just as quickly, I knew I shouldn’t take him. Too much.
Raising this last kid of mine, I’m often struck by how much more children have today than they did when his ’80s-born siblings were little. No need to bring up the dark ages of when I was a child. The contrast from even a decade ago is startling.
On any given weekend, kids too young to read a newspaper know which movies are opening. They know what fast-food chain is handing out which toy. Ask any 5-year-old, if you don’t think so.
On Saturday, my son and I were party guests. It was a beautiful party, truly. Four generations celebrated a sweet girl’s third birthday. The weather was fine, the food fabulous, and the kids took pony rides around a cul-de-sac. Yes, on real ponies. There was a bounce house, too.
In the past year, my son has been to parties at bowling alleys, at commercial gyms, and one where the Reptile Man of Monroe, aka Scott Peterson, showed up with snakes, a tortoise and an alligator.
I love the Reptile Man. I love ponies, bounce houses and Pixar movies. Needless to say, my son has had a great time at every one of his friends’ parties.
When I mention them to my 21-year-old, she recalls her sixth birthday. She asks if her brother has been to a plain old party at somebody’s house, where the attractions are kids, cake and ice cream, and maybe a game of pin the tail on the donkey. Nope, not yet.
A Toys R Us catalog arrived the other day. It’s full of Star Wars stuff, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Barbies and a $200 Razor Electric Chopper, a motorcycle sure to turn your 12-year-old into a smaller version of Capt. America from “Easy Rider.”
Inside the catalog is something for the kids. “Holiday Fun Stickers.” There are 24 stickers labeled “No. 1 choice,” “No. 2 choice,” “No. 3 choice,” “Wow,” “Totally Awesome” and “I really want it!”
You get the picture. Kids pick their presents, like a gift registry. A gift registry? For kids at Christmas? Forget I said that. It may happen, if it hasn’t already.
In a drawer in my bedroom is a note to Santa, scrawled in pencil on the lined paper first-graders use. It’s short, a modest list written years ago by my older son. Absent are any brand names.
As for that catalog with stickers, my little boy won’t be seeing it. I know what he craves. Time. He loves playing checkers with his brother. He loves when I let him cook.
Sunday, we washed the dog. We raked and piled cedar droppings into a recycle bin. I missed my father and his burn barrel.
We had time for a scooter ride to the park. My kid took a spill, scraped his hand and came home for a Band-Aid and a nap. Watching him sleep, I felt no guilt about missing the Disney show.
Toys, parties, fun food, dazzling entertainment – in small doses, it’s all good. Even my dad took us for ice cream (one scoop of vanilla, please).
But it’s all too much. No wonder so many children are fatter, whinier and more easily bored than even a generation ago.
Look what we’re doing for them – or is it to them?
Columnist Julie Muhlstein: 425-339-3460 or muhlsteinjulie@heraldnet.com.
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