Size Matters

I have to laugh when people talk about how sweet and innocent children are. And not a gentle, “so true, so true” kind of laugh. A wry, derisive laugh often accompanied by some sort of grimace. It’s not that I don’t find truth in such a remark, it’s just that, as a blanket statement, I don’t find it particularly accurate. Kids (well, some kids) can be angelic and endearing, but they can also be snarky little mean machines with barracuda-like instincts. Have you ever hung around a kindergarten playground for any length of time? Better yet, have you ever been five years old yourself? It’s a jungle gym out there, with survival of the fittest reigning supreme, and you don’t want to be caught at the shallow end of the gene pool. Any perceived weakness can work against you--glasses, overweight, smart, fashion-impaired, athletically-challenged--but the thing most likely to tip the victim vs. victimizer playground scale is the evolutionarily prescribed bigger is better. Job titles and trophy wives will come into play down the road, but, in third grade, you want to be or be friends with someone who is furthest from the ground. When tennies hit asphalt, whether you get to play or eat your lunch in peace or keep your stuff is determined by a hierarchy slanted toward the big kids. In Martha Alexander’s Blackboard Bear, one little boy has to draw himself a big, furry friend to get some attention. I could make a fortune off that chalk.

http://www.amazon.com/Blackboard-Bear-Martha-Alexander/dp/0763606677

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