It was time for me to do an update on the secret society to which I acceded ar force of nature by becoming Mom. The company
Properties unshared benches square. A company
harsh laws, hierarchy duly respected on pain of ejection manu-facto.
We often talk of the sandbox and merciless war that prevails ... but nay friends, the real battle took place around our beautiful heads chubby and innocent.
the side of my house, the square is divided territorially and physically. Physically
by both sides, right and left and see there is no kind of political idea. Right, the slide, the left tube hide and seek. For the territorial
: by period year, and by time of day, benches installed around the sandboxes are occupied by one kind of population, whose origins thus vary according to time, and season.
But what exactly does it?
nannies ...
They evolve as a school of fish in the tide, and moon, except that they follow, not the Which are the requirements of children are supposed to deal with it .... To be honest, I actually have not completely finished the study of their migration.
Anyway, it is interesting to develop the subject. There are
Mamas, who in the morning between 10:30 and 11:55, invade all banks (except 1!) Side toboggan. Happy
and prolix, it quacks serious, swirling accent, dropping the discretion, in short, a kind festival singing 145 decibels in your face. The only remaining bench
being very generously given to the rest of the population, a lady called Tata over one of the most terrible rascals out of the corner (like Destructor version Hardcore prohibited under 45 years), and ... two or three moms at home with me.
Both say that the 2 other moms and I are close to our offspring, are not often sitting, traveling miles to recover the child, dragging him to his shovel, negotiate the bucket ...
And meanwhile, our fish of a thousand colors ignore the rest of the world. And when I say world, I speak mostly brats they are in charge.
This is the way they see you for the 150th time but still have not determined who you were, then all "their" children, although they have spotted her Dadam Fifils making mud pies , manages to slide jams, plays the peacekeepers on the dada ... The same
Dadam knowing all the names of all children ...
the afternoon our ban of fish migrates to the West (is it the sun ?...), with all the brats, and still no free bench. But there other species appear, and languages mix with accents, and when we mix all this with shouts, laughter and tears ... cacophony reigns. But still no
Babysitters in the sandbox, whatever their origin ... they are committed to not playing with a child but to defend the bench and his property. Do not you dare to squat, you'll be surrounded faster than your shadow, and pretty songs will become as fast as threatening chorus! And
themselves do not mix them, barely tolerate them, and if brawl shovel ago, will Crimping of buns! Ah yes!
What works well and exclusions formal, mom, or even group manger of the square enclosure with real threats they do not laugh even if you are not addressed.
Example: Nanny raises a bit too bold a guy by the arm, the mother replies "it is not but, oh, what next," the Nanny's shrieks, screams, threatens "we must not touch It was not taking it, I catch if I want, "the mother left with his kid under his arm ...
Counter-example: the boy that is supposed to charge the same Nanny pat on the head of my son with a rake, and guess who did not move, did not say a word, did not even notice. .. banco! The Nanny!
And when comes the weekend ... calm returns, the square is eerily empty, there is very rarely the kids in the week, and all the benches are at your disposal ...
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