While waiting on the subway platform with the after work crowd, I glanced over just in time to see a little girl and boy engaged in play. The little girl, her hair in two ponytails— one slightly askew, wore a bright orange coat, and had a lollipop in her mouth. The little boy, his gaze primarily downwards, yet no less exuberant, wore his dark, straight as rain hair in a bowl cut. Both looked to be around 5 years of age. Being the only little ones in the loosely assembled crowd, and being the only ones engaged in what appeared to be a circle chase game of round and round, they immediately drew my attention.
I watched them go round and round, much joy evident in their chase. But they also appeared to be delighted with themselves— such was the glee that sang through their movements, their giggling, their expressions. I couldn’t help but happily bear witness and share in their delight.
Next, having made their way through the turnstiles, came their two adult guardians.
The adults, albeit quietly, kept trying to get the children to stop. Arms outstretched, they kept making corralling movements— attempting to round them up into a contained corner. Their focus was clearly on making sure they didn’t rush towards the platform edge next to the train tracks.
As an observer, there was something to be said for being able to see both perspectives. I could feel the innocence and delight in the children’s joy and at the same time understand the guardians’ protective inclinations.
Last I saw, as the subway train pulled into the station, the kids had stopped the circling chase game and replaced it with what appeared to be a dancing game. And as they grooved to the music most often heard only by the young, the adults, still maintaining vigilance, relaxed their attempts at corralling .