Little Stories From The Jungle Gym

Salcedo Park Playground

I

A kid from the Middle East, about the same age as the 18-month old boy I babysit, pedaled his baby blue bike away, bawling, after Baby Lenin pointed at his toy ball at the back of his bike. My nephew merely said the word "ball," but apparently the other kid already got tired of our insolence. Earlier, Baby Lenin wobbled towards the bike after seeing a toy truck on its basket. He then took it out and examined the toy without the owner's permission. We returned it the moment the kid's eyebrows crossed to show his protest. To douse the hate that has been growing in him, we decided to return to the jungle gym and play with the other kids. But then, Baby Lenin uttered the magic words, which has now angered the other kid. When he flew into a rage, his yaya's glare could have reduced me to pieces. After all, I am an accomplice. What would his moneyed parents say if they found out their little brat made a scene and the maid didn't do anything to prevent it?

II

There was a Black kid, a Chinese tyke and another foreign-colored kid at the playground. The three of them appear to be buddies. The kids climbed the rope ladder to reach the jungle gym's upper deck. A two year old blonde Caucasian sprinted below while his mother trailed behind. She stopped not far from me to catch her breath. This unplanned stopover gave way to a small talk. It seems she has already gotten so used to her hyperactive son that she already thought of letting him run around - unlike me, who watched Baby Lenin's carefree steps. After all, the ground is matted by thick rubber padding and even if the baby sprinter stumbles, he won't go home with a scraped knee or a bruised elbow.

That night, I told Baabaa that it felt like going to an International School. Except that we only got to hang out at the school's playground and that the expat's children were left under the care of their maids.

We should have brought our own. 

III

"Loooooolaaaaaa!!"

Baby Lenin said repeatedly. His squeaky voice could be heard from across the playground, where his white-haired grandmother cozied up on her wheelchair. The little tyke's legs wobbled as he darted around the jungle gym; chasing the birds and smiling at strangers who rested on the park's benches. Twice, I carried him  halfway up the slide, so he can experience the breathless feeling of sliding down the slide. When he thought of climbing the stairs to explore the decks and tunnels of the jungle gym, I followed him, not minding if the flimsy structure could carry my weight.