A whole New Generation of Playground Fun

One good thing about being a parent is the ability to take your child somewhere that you loved as a child and relive the magic through their eyes. The wonder of experiencing something new, the joy of simply doing something for the sake of doing it, of learning new skills.

The Dinosaur museum: Ooo! What if we had pet dinosaurs? Would that one eat me? Did they REALLY live on Earth? Where's the gift shop? And I watch her crane her little neck up to see the dino's skulls and smile.

Swimming pool: Look! I'm a mermaid! NO! I'm a platypus! Watch me cannonball! Momma, why is that man wearing swimsuit bottoms like yours? Where's the vending machine? And I watch her slip through the water like she was meant to be there.

And especially:

The playground: Watch me do the monkey bars! Watch me climb up here! Look how much bigger the slide is than the kindergarten slide! Look what I can do on the big pole!
And then I watch her slide down the big pole, spinning around with one leg hooked around it, other arm gracefully extended, head back. When she lands with a little flourish, I clap like any good mom. Then I look around, to see one of the older girls (third grade) with whom we walk home also spinning around while sliding down the pole.
It's after school, so there aren't a lot of kids there, but I notice that there's quite a line for the pole. Each little girl climbs up the slide next to it, grabs as high as she can and then gracefully spins down. One even has mastered the behind-the-head grab, spinning slowly backward to the ground.




And I realize:

They're doing stripper pole moves.

A million questions start to spin through my brain.

What. The. Fuck?

Do they know what they're doing?

Do they get points for the difficulty of each move?

Could I do that?

And most importantly: How in the HELL did elementary school girls find out about this?!?

Walking home I'm trying not to giggle. The other third grader that we walk is a talker. I've been able to get some pretty juicy stuff out of her before, so I ask her if she likes sliding down the pole. "Not really," she says, but then brags that her mom "can do the one where she's upside down and only hanging on with one leg!"

"Wow," I say, "she, uh, do that in your basement?" Hoping to get some dirt on the neighbors, you know. *snicker*

Her face looks momentarily horrified, and I realize I might have tapped into something here. "Uh, No, uh—wait up, you guys!" And she scurries off before I can ply more secrets from her.

My friend Susan called me the other day. She was stuck at the school with a busted car and was watching the kids at morning recess.
"Have you seen the sliding pole thing? How they all line up? There's a line a mile long for this! How funny!"
"You mean the stripper pole?"
Pause.
"OH. MY. GOD. You're right. That's totally what they're doing!"

Ah, childhood innocence.