I Heard The Ice Cream Truck Today

I hear the ice cream truck coasting down the street and playing that unmistakable music. Every time I hear an ice cream truck I'm instantly transported to the cul-de-sac where I spent many of my formative years. Today was one of those days that reminded me of that time too.

After nap time all three children were ready to play outside. It was a glorious day and I was so glad the rain held off. There is a vacant lot next door and the builders left a huge sand pile there for the children to play in. And there were a lot of children playing in the sand pile this afternoon!
I can remember spending hours in the court, playing kick the can, riding our bikes, playing mother-may-I and I don't really remember what all we did except that we played every summer day all day long until long after dark! I'm sure we were called in for dinner at some point, but surely we wolfed down whatever was on the menu to rush back out.

My three little ones did really well playing in the sand until "the neighbor kids" came over. I say "neighbor kids" with a tone of exasperation and dismay because of how the neighbor kids are. One mom sends her girls, ages 4, 7, 10 out to play for hours, never checking on them, leaving the task, I imagine to me - because I do stay out there every second the children are in the yard. They're not bad girls, they're just used to being allowed to run a bit wild - no bike helmets, bare feet and shorts when it's 70 degrees, etc. When all three of them come over to play it's like an invading army.

The other "neighbor kids" who came over included a dad and his two boys. I had noticed him playing with them for quite a while in the yard and playing with sidewalk chalk, etc., His boys weren't bad either. Except the older one, who I think is six, who is hyperactive and never speaks below a bellow! He ran down the boys a couple of times and made me really tense. The little brother, who is probably 2 1/2, also screams, (go figure) and he ran into the street several times. Once he got almost to the end of the cul-de-sac and dad never even got up out of the sand pile! I ran and grabbed him and carried him back to his dad when I saw a car coming.

I know . . . I'm a real stick-in-the-mud. I'm the "mean old lady" even to the couple for whom I nanny I'm pretty sure. But this is my point: my children turned out to be amazing, bright, polite, generous, gracious and just generally decent human beings (when they're at their best:-)

They did not run wild. They did not scream or bellow. They did not even cross the street until they were probably 8 or 9 and then only with parent watching them. We could take them out to eat and they were well-behaved. When they were older my kids never tried drugs. They are good friends to their friends. They don't judge others and they don't say mean things about other people.

They got spanked when they needed a spanking (not often) and they never questioned who was in charge. My daughter was 22 years old before she told me she didn't like squash even though she ate it her entire life because I fixed it often in the summer time. No they're not perfect. Far from it. But I couldn't be more proud of them. We made plenty of mistakes, but I think the kind of people they are today speaks for itself.

What's my point? Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it. [Proverbs 22:6 NKJ]

Chilren are a gift from God. If we don't teach them right from wrong, if we don't teach them limits, if we don't guard them and ensure they are safe, we are squandering our gift. My "parenting" style is clearly different than that of those in the neighborhood where my employers live. I hope and pray all those children will grow up happy and healthy, wise and good.