Super Parents Super Kids

 A few decades ago when I became a grandparent, I was able, through neighborhood invitations to attend the birthday parties of little kids. I would see what changes in parenting had evolved over the past decade or so. My own grand kids were beyond typical birthday parties. I found myself sitting in birthday living rooms with other grandparents. In those days, unlike today, when child rearing is co-parent, mothers used to take the kids to the birthday parties. They weren't the major entertainment venues, as now, with professional staffs in large child party facilities. Parties for kids,  were held in homes not local restaurants with play rooms or at swimming pools or skating rinks. The children were on the floor in someone's living room with mothers setting up educational toys on the carpet, while cooing and mewling encouragement over the fun of it all. As one of the old ladies observing on couches about the space, we of the Dr. Spock era, were silent but mostly because of shock. Was this supposed to be fun? The so-called toys were devices that were designed to increase certain skills progressively  in children. If this were done, apparently, the kids would excel toward genius standing in school. With three decades of teaching  behind me, including multiple courses in child psychology, I observed that few of the little ones were laughing or smiling as they played the games. As it turned out much later,  none of them became geniuses and most ended up as pleasant ordinary people doing ordinary jobs. Old age does offer perspective. But here we elders were, watching. The mothers down on the carpets were trying hard to disguise their competitiveness. And the children as all kids do, knew it and very wisely tried desperately to meet the parental expectations as the little ones stacked and sorted and shifted the plastics. I was hoping someone would toss in an old carboard carton, germ-free of course, and maybe a large paper bag or two and if not in use, a few kitchen gadgets that made noises. How much fun would they all have with an old blanket or a tablecloth, perhaps a wooden spoon to beat upon an empty box. I so wanted to see the kids freed from having to "achieve" and maybe be just kids. But no, it was almost time to shell out the kale chips, sugarless muffins and vegetable thrills: broccoli, carrots and cauliflower. Whatever happened to ice cream and cake? We old tea sippers didn't dare look at one another for fear we might divulge our dismay. As I bit into my herbal short bread with garlic bits amongst the ginger, I wondered if my shower hadn't worked or perhaps my morning lotion might dare to have a scent of florals in it,  as the reason why the children, when we were introduced, hid behind the parental jeans.  Was it me or was it that I was maybe "the dangerous stranger"?  I had given up smiling at little ones on the sidewalk or in the super market for fear the mothers would instantly drag their kids off as though I were a potential kidnapper or worse. But soon it was time to whisk the little geniuses off home. The nanny had to be called because Mommy had work on Monday and then she had gym after but it was okay because they could make a play date later on in the week between soccer, ballet and kid yoga lessons.