The order came out of the little man's mouth and I "obeyed" without complaining, because it is not every day that an adult can throw himself to the floor of the room or the grandparents' yard, imitating the defenses of the stars of the beacons.
The writer Javier Marías has a delightful phrase, which often comes to mind. He says, a fanatical fan of Real Madrid, that going to see a football game "is the weekly return to childhood." I am reminded of this phrase not exactly because of the stadium-a "sport" I have not been practicing lately-but because of the experience of parenthood, which is doubly a daily (and intermittent) return to childhood.
On the one hand, we spend a good deal of time finally giving reason to our parents. Phrases such as "wear a coat" or "put a cap on the head", which irritated us in childhood and adolescence, now leave our mouths all the time. We also perceive what it is to sleep poorly, because the child has a fever, and we have passed from authors to targets of sentences like "leave me alone" or "do not be boring".
Let us say that this is the least pleasant part of this constant return to childhood. It's much more fun to be called by the kids to play games and adventures that go back many years to the time we rode our bikes all afternoon, play soccer from morning to night, build carts for bearings, collect cards For exchange?) Or simulated song festivals in the middle of the street.
"Father, you are the goalkeeper. And I'm going to score you a goal like Cristiano Ronaldo. " The order came out of the little man's mouth and I "obeyed" without complaining, because it is not every day that an adult can throw himself to the floor of the room or the grandparents' yard, imitating the defenses of the stars of the beacons. The scenery repeats itself frequently and for days I found myself running sweat in the neighborhood garden in a football match with the kid and three others who gathered around the ball.
This reminds me of another delightful phrase, told by Eduardo Galeano, who in his Soccer: Sol e Sombra, recalls that one day they asked the German theologian Dorothee Solle how she would explain happiness to a child. "I would not explain," she replied. "I gave her a ball for her to play."
Back home, we are at this stage where the ball dispenses the remaining toys. Which leads me to have more and more certainties about the consumeristic madness in which we live. You're already thinking that the old man's talk is coming. But that's not it, because I like to see how technology and entrepreneurship give us today toys we never even dreamed of when we were children, whether they are moldable sands that allow us to build sandcastles in the winter, be they drones or challenging video games.
My point is that, between birthday parties, Christmas, children's days and casual gifts, kids put together exaggerated collections of toys for which there is no room in the houses or time in the playbook. Often, however, it is difficult to contain the consumerist fury, because no one wants to give up a gift. "The troika is there at home?" One of these days asked the uncle, when he told him that the birthday boy does not need more gifts, because he has already chosen three. Actually, walk. But it is not a troika of creditors who want to say how they manage finances from home, but rather a "troika" with the desire for some good sense in shopping, with the desire not to have the house jammed with toys and with The aspiration to take advantage of these moments to help boys who really need. How about using the (almost inevitable) birthday parties to get gifts / things useful for institutions that help children? We'll try it and bet it will be good for everyone.
