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Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Leo's playgroup



Leo and I went to Playgroup. I drove. We got lost on the way, but still arrived before some of the others. Leo blended in well with the other children in his woolen jersey and funky ‘sock-hat’. I was the only one there who wore a beard. We left our boots in the foyer and went into the play-room where children and their mothers were acclimatising and chatting. Gulliver recognised me, “Robert’s here! Robert’s here!” Leo and I sat down at the musical instruments table and rattled a few things while we took in the scene.  There was a lot of wool and felt and expressionless young faces. The mum’s were kindly and unhurried. There were a lot of natural materials to play with; pine cones, shells, hanks of wool, sticks. There were sweet songs about stars and porridge and so on and I sang along quietly. Leo rode a pony to a pony-song and I was it. The children sat at a big, low table and Josie sprinkled flour in front of them, then gave them a ball of dough, which they formed into a bun, adding sunflower seeds. These were collected and put into the oven while apple slices were served. When they were cooked, each bun found its maker and was eaten. Leo wasn’t in a hurry to eat his bun, so I talked with Liam’s mum about her curled-toe felt slippers and other things. We all decided to go outside and play in the sand-pit, though the air was cold. We wrapped up, re-booted and took spades and buckets outside. I over-saw the excavation of a hole, into which children poured water and threw leaves. Leo filled a plastic bucket with sand and patiently patted it down, over and over. In time, we packed up and went to the car, buckled-up and drove back to town, chatting about what we’d done.  It was a great morning.

6 comments:

Bioneer said...

Never really in a hurry to eat

robertguyton said...

Digests spectacularly well.

Philip Todd said...

Sounds like you were lucky Leo went along to keep you company on your first day

robertguyton said...

Ha!
He held my hand.

Bioneer said...

Might have to put that on your CV. Will you still be able to relate to children when your 60 in a couple of decades? Will the Stiener Mum's still swoon?

robertguyton said...

There was no swooning, more's the pity. Next time, however, I'll wear my hand-knitted woolen onsie and there'll be swooning alright! Running for the door, too!