2001-09-18 :: 6:12 p.m.

children, uplifting and depressing

Soundtrack: none

Today I heard the nicest thing: laughter from children swinging on a playground. They were pushing each other, playing nicely. God, it made me smile. It was such a pleasant sound, and the sight of kids going on unaware and having fun was a relief in some way. It's nice to know that even if the Pentagon daycare is evacuated, kids are playing here.

On the other hand (but still dealing with children), there were two kids being neglected by their mom at the laundromat (am I even allowed to use that word?). The older sister said stuff like "I just want to be close to mom!" and cried and cried while her mother told her to stay in her chair and "take a nap". I had this thought that it was secretly a subconscious wish for her child to go away in a more permanent manner. The son was dressed in a Nautica tee and well on his way to being a cool little ladykiller. While I played the Demolition Man pinball, the two of them looked on, eager to find some stimuli of any kind to relieve their boredom. Then the brother started punching the sister and she ran away crying.

Later this guy dressed in a TMBG "Music self-played is Happiness self-made" t-shirt (I have the same one, but with black ringers instead of brown) was playing the pinball. He had a gut that shook each time he hit the flippers. The brother looked on and constantly advised him to "Shoot, shoot!", and he took it in stride, since it was really distracting behavior. The kid was pretty resourceful: he went outside and dragged in a milkcrate so he could actually watch the table. The player was a kind fellow; he bought the kid a dollar's worth of games. I could almost picture the kid's memories being formed. I wondered if the dramatic opening of the pinball music would trigger some kind of weird nostalgic reaction later in his life, or if I was just projecting my own roller rink Zaxxon flashback.

As you might expect, the boy wasn't very good -- his strategy was mostly "hit all of the buttons all of the time" -- but he gave the solenoids a healthy workout. It was funny to watch him, since he didn't really understand the fact that he had a limited number of balls to play and that merely smacking the launch button didn't give him a free go. Occasionally, he'd hit a ramp or keep the ball in play for more than ten seconds. "Mom, I'm learning!" he yelled, getting no response. With his head turned, he missed the ball, and it drained. After those three games finished he hit the match not once, but twice and so I activated two more games for him to bang through. When his last ball drained he said something like "I couldn't do it, I didn't learn," and I said "You'll get better." Made me think of playing pinball with Dad, and then wondered where the father was here.

I offered the mom help with folding the laundry but she turned me down, saying "I'm fine." Can't say I was convinced. The little girl was sad to watch and listen to; she was so miserable and bored. I could almost feel the children being broken. I mean, really, who tells their kids to shut up and counts to three in a threatening manner whenever one of them starts to cry? Lady, you're boring them to death in a hot laundry. God. Give them some attention, show them some love, you made them. Adding visible insult to internal injury, every time it seemed the mom was close to finishing, out came another load to fold.

Since her mother wasn't giving her any attention or contact, the girl resorted to rubbing and squeezing her thigh and sucking her thumb, her eyes closed. She eventually fell asleep, just like her mom wanted. Broke my heart.

When I left the laundry, I told the little boy to take care, and be good. "I will!" he said with great glee. I can only hope.