When I was a young mother in the 1950s I looked forward to pushing my toddler out, because it was a time when she was happy to be sitting peacefully in one place where I could see her rather than roaming around the house emptying the soap powder, or, even worse, the sugar onto the floor or pushing a stool around so she could climb on it to reach the ever-retreating ornaments, or even just quietly playing with her toys when I, alarmed at the quiet, would go and destroy the whole thing by peeping at her, which would remind her to come and get under my feet again. We had great "conversations" going down the street and point things out to each other and she'd learn new words and it was a totally satisfactory part of the day. That is, until she wanted to get out and walk! However, when my grandchildren were small in the 1970s their push-chairs faced away from me. No interaction was possible while we were out, and I noticed the faces of other children, and have ever since. They don't enjoy their outings. They look worried and withdrawn and well they might, as they are pushed out first into any new situation., alone in the world as far as they can see.
It wasn't so bad when push-chairs were folded to get on the bus. Then they at least got to sit on Mum's knee and be spoken to and could look out of the window and see what was going on around them. Now they are shoved into that little alcove, facing just a grey wall, and can see neither the outside world nor the other passengers, nor Mum or Dad. We wouldn't like it! In a train, for example, everybody covets the window seat. Even if this situation is to be remedied, so much the better, but those already strapped into their expensive monstrosities aren't likely to have them replaced.
I think it is harmful to give children the wrong impression of the outside world. It is not a dangerous place to be hurried through, but one to be interpreted, talked about, explained. A little child's life is a constant learning experience and parents are there to help it along, not be constantly on a mobile phone to somebody else. Your child is somebody.
It is so interesting to see how everything changes over the years. When I was a child, in the 1940s, my mother used to get hot under the collar about young mothers who, she considered, had "tarted themselves up" accompanied by very neglected-looking, even dirty children. This was in Tulse Hill, south London, a very average commuter inner suburb.
Now, in Croydon 70 years later, I get upset because the opposite is the case. It is the babies who have become the fashion plates and the mothers' style is the neglected look. Perhaps we are just a critical family who look around for something to disapprove of? I prefer to think it is because we really love babies and want them to be happy.
Baby clothes have disappeared and instead they are dressed in miniature adult wear. This looks delightful and funny and charming in the shop and on the moppets in the magazines, but they spend a lot of time more or less in bed, and how many people go to bed in their blue jeans and leather jackets? Wouldn't the babies be more comfortable in their old-fashioned baby-grows? And, before they can walk, they would certainly be better off without those adorable little shoes or boots.
A bit later, when they go to the playground, and these are less and less used, I have noticed, they are constantly being reminded to keep clean and not do anything the least bit dangerous. Why not take them to the playground in clothes that can take a bit of rough and tumble? And you can't do much of that, on that emasculated equipment, which has been so scaled down that they can never have the excitement of being taken down the slide by an older brother or sister. The dreaded "health and safety" has been at work there, I feel.
I don't think we are very kind or understanding about older children either.
Enough Grumpy Old Woman for today, that will be for tomorrow.
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