Throwing Stones

Scott and I sat on a giant, long log, worn smooth from people sitting on it. We watched Elle playing on the kinderspielplatz (playground) beside three German children. Elle climbed the ropes and slid down the slide happily as the other children sat in the tiny stones that made the bed around the play structures. Scott and I cynically wondered if the German children would throw the stones. We smirked, reading each other's thoughts.

Back in America, we had recently had dinner with an American family who had done the same trip we were on now. At the dinner I had asked Megan, the wife and mom of two small daughters about parental etiquette on a playground. "Do the moms speak to the other mothers' children?" I asked. Reflecting on Americans' own sensitivities concerning our children, I didn't want to break any unwritten codes that German parents had about their children. Megan hesitated and tilted her head, furrowing her eyebrows, unsure what exactly I was asking.

 I clarified, "For instance, if children on the playground are doing something...like throwing rocks or some..."

Her chin popped up, understanding the question and she interrupted. She was definitely sure that this would not be a situation in which I would find myself. She declared very adamantly, "German children do NOT throw rocks."

Scott and I glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. I could read his mind. Uh oh, our daughter will be a handful over there if German children don't even THINK of throwing rocks.

So now, we watched the three German children very intently, almost holding our breath with anticipation.

Elle went on jumping from slide to ropes, climbing the ramp of a tall wooden boat. When she got to the deck of the boat, she scanned the playground from above. I noticed the instant she spied the other children as her eyes zeroed in on her next mission. She turned and scurried down the boat ramp, running over to us while pointing at the three kids.

"Can I go play with those kids?" she panted. She was rounding out her u-turn before I could even finish saying yes. I didn't blame her for her excitement. It had been three or four days since she had interacted with any other children and she had already declared that "playing with adults all the time is boring."

 She slowed as she approached the children, two girls and a boy. About 10 feet away, she began walking. At five feet away, she tiptoed. At three feet away, she stopped to observe. With the tiniest movements, she examined the kids, bending over slightly, tilting her head and squinting at their busy hands. Having concluded her study, she inched a little closer to the three, who were hunched in a circle around the mound of stones they were building. I guessed the oldest girl to be 8 and the younger girl and boy at about 6 years-old. No other parents were in sight.

 She took a seat and proceeded to push her own little pile of stones together. Every few seconds, she craned her neck to check if her potential playmates noticed her. In only a few moments, she realized her tactic wasn't working so she galloped back to us hopefully. My parents surely can solve this problem, she must've been thinking.

 "Mommy, I want to play with those kids but they aren't playing with me."

 "Maybe if you go sit closer to them. You could even just sit in their circle with them and start helping them. They'll let you play with them if you do that." I said.

"Noooo," she whined. "I want to ask them if they will play with me."

"O.K., Let me think how you could ask." I ran the few words I had over and over in my head until I came up with the closest request I could construct. "Try saying, 'spielen si mit mir, bitte?'" (Will you play with me please?)

 Elle repeated the phrase back to me three or four times before she had it memorized, then she turned to walk back to the kids. Halfway to them, she lost her nerve. She returned to me begging, "Mom, please tell them for me!"

 I wagged my head back and forth, "No Elle. You have to ask them yourself."

 "Wwwwwwhhhhhhhyyyyy?" she pleaded.

To my surprise, Scott joined in her argument. "Molly, why can't you just go ask them to play with her?"

 It seemed obvious to me, but I answered anyway, "Well, because...they are kids. Elle can just go sit by them and they will let her join them. Plus, they're bigger kids so they don't want to play with some little kid who has her parents ask them to play with her." I coaxed Elle to repeat the phrase I had taught her again and told her to go sit by them and say the phrase. Her bottom lip stuck out, "But maaahhaaam, can you come with me?"

 "No"

"Why not?" Scott asked again. He was getting annoyed with my stubbornness.

"Because Scott, those kids do not want some adult coming over to play with them. If Elle wants to play with other kids, she has to approach them on her own. If I go over there, those kids won't want anything to do with me OR ELLE."

Scott rolled his eyes, "Well I guess we'll have to disagree." He stood up and turned to Elle, "I'll go with you Elle, but you have to say what mama told you to say."

She nodded agreement and led Scott over to the circle by the hand. They stopped just outside the circle. Scott looked huge standing beside Elle, and he must have looked gigantic from the three little children's perspective sitting on the ground. Scott nudged Elle, and she carefully repeated the phrase. The children didn't respond in any way. I knew that if I had heard her tiny request, the kids must have heard her too, so when Scott turned to me with questioning eyes, I shrugged.

 Scott cleared his throat, "Entschuldigung si." (Excuse me) The biggest girl looked up at his towering stature. He nudged Elle and she repeated the phrase. The two girl looked at each other, unsure. Then to all of our horror, the three children turned their backs on Elle and Scott and laughed out loud before returning to their exclusive task.

 Elle and Scott returned to the log, heads hanging. Elle's little lip quivered, then her mouth pursed before tears began pooling in her big brown eyes. "Mommy, I want to play with them but they just ignore me. I even said what you told me to say and they just laughed at me."

I tried my best to comfort her, but remained realistic. "Elle, those are big kids. They don't want to play with you if your dad is right next to you holding your hand. Just try to sit in their circle with them. Then they will let you help them."

She pulled her shoulders back, inhaled a deep breath, wiped her eyes and marched back to them. This girl REALLY wanted to play with other children! She sat only inches outside of their circle this time and began a pile of stones.

Within moments, the two girls opened the circle and scooted on either side of her. "See?" I elbowed Scott. The girls began speaking to Elle, presumably asking her questions in German. Elle stared down at her stone mound. She certainly didn't understand a word they were saying, but she didn't even look up at them. The bigger girl asked a few more questions. Elle continued to ignore them. Then, as quickly as they had approached her, the two girls hopped up, skittered away and sat in a different area of the playground. When they started a new pile of stones, the boy ran over to join them and Elle was left alone again.

"See?!" Scott elbowed me back. "They think she's weird because she won't speak to them. You should just tell them she can't speak German!"

 "We'll have to just disagree, I guess."

 Elle erupted into a fit of crying, sitting hopelessly alone next to her meager pile of stones. After she buried herself in my arms to cry, we rubbed her back and apologized for the situation. Both of us were at a loss on how to help our daughter and hated to see her so rejected. To make it worse, both of us thought the other handled the situation wrong.

 "Elle's tired'" I said. "Let's just go." Feeling isolated and vulnerable, we began walking away from the log bench. Scott put a crying Elle on his shoulders and we shuffled away, defeated.

We turned back to the playground when we heard a peppering of stones against wood. Sure enough, the three children were gleefully throwing handfuls of stones against the side of the wooden boat. Scott and I met gazes. We knew those brats would throw rocks!!!!

For the record, as we walked home, every single passerby smiled and happily said "Hallo," as they do every time we walk through town.