Toy Soldiers

"The shortest distance between two points is always under construction." - Rebecca McClanahan

The little girl on the playground was sulking. She sat crosslegged in the sand beside the slide, head down and hair hanging across her face, little hands scrunched into fists with a look that suggested she was about to cry. No one paid any attention to her and now and again she glanced up at the other children with a petulant expression, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. She dug her fists into the sand with quick, angry, wanting-to-hurt shoves.

The little boy sat on a bench nearby, pretending to ignore her in favor of a box of a toy soldiers he had spilled into his lap. A soldier in each hand, he played his make-believe battles, crashing them together with soft shouts. He waved the winning soldier in the air for a moment then retrieved the loser from the ground and began again. As he reached down, he surreptitiously looked in the little girl's direction, frowning slightly but making no move to approach her.

After a time, the little girl threw a handful of sand in the little boy's direction. He pretended not to notice and she threw a second handful, this time including some small pebbles. When he looked up and at her, she immediately looked away. He deliberately turned his back to face away from her and she threw a third handful of sand and pebbles, this time with a little more force. The little boy threw his soldiers down and stormed toward her, gave her hair one good pull and then stood over her, hands on his hips defiantly. She reached for his ankle and pinched and he yelled and kicked sand in her face. She jumped to her feet and after wiping her tears away with one grimy hand, shoved him with both hands, knocking him down. Although he wasn't hurt, his surprised look instantly turned to tears, and he was on his feet and racing after her in a second.

They both reached their mother at the same time and began squabbling and trying to outshout the other. After separating and shushing them both, she dried their tears and asked for an explanation.

There was silence and neither would look at the other. She shook her head, scolded them equally, and sent them off in opposite directions. They came back one at a time, each pouring out their unhappiness and blaming the other, each eager to complain about the other but not willing to talk to each other, not willing to try and resolve their differences directly.

Sometimes the difference between adults and children on a playground is that the children don't know any better.