5-year-olds confront reality of life with tears, tantrums and the pain of a shrinking heart
Children at a playground. FILE PHOTO | NATION MEDIA GROUP
What you need to know:
- And here was an example of a child projecting the image he had built of himself.
- Andrew Marr presented him with an envelope containing the cut-up pieces of his collar.
Miylah, aged five, quarrelled with a friend and said as a result her heart had “shrunk”.
But when other children gathered round and gave her lots of hugs, she announced “my heart is growing again”.
This was one of the scenes from a fly-on-the-wall series, The Secret Life of 5-Year-Olds, which returned to television and became an instant ratings hit.
It’s easy to see why. A dozen or so little ones, filmed by hidden cameras, demonstrate real-life emotions and a growing understanding of the real world with tears and tantrums, tricks and laughter.
CAKE
Romance, too, of a sort. Sienna wanted Arthur to kiss her, but Arthur claimed he “had to go to work”.
What about telling fibs? The “teacher,” a child psychologist, left a large chocolate cake on a table in the playground with strict instructions it was not to be touched. He had scarcely left when the boys were licking the icing.
It was on his return that the children demonstrated their inventiveness. Who had licked the cake? First, someone had “mysteriously” crept in when they were not looking, but maybe it was an elephant, or no, a giant bird!
Another “naughty” episode concerned an ice cream machine. The children were told not to touch but their resolution did not last.
When the handle was turned, out came the ice cream and mouths were soon buried in it.
TOUGH GUY
And here was an example of a child projecting the image he had built of himself.
Jack liked being seen as a tough guy and when an inquest was held about the ice cream, he proudly declared he had eaten some of it. The fact is he had not. He was protecting his tough guy image.
Similar in the macho line was Alfie, the boy who never cried. After being bested in a painting competition, he agreed that “tears were streaming down my face,” but added, “I was just washing my eyes, that’s all.”
It was Alfie, too, who showed himself far ahead of the other kids when it came to vocabulary. He coined the wonderful insult, “You blimmin bummux.”
The scenes we witnessed were about emotional development, the educationists explained. The children were coming out of the “me, me, me” phase by learning, empathy, teamwork and friendship. Great stuff!
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Perhaps the best known of all fairy tales is the one about the Sleeping Beauty, a beautiful princess who is woken from eternal slumber by the kiss of a handsome prince.
Sarah Hall, mother of a six-year-old boy, has asked for the story to be removed from schools because she believes it promotes “inappropriate” sexual behaviour. She said she was prompted to speak out because of recent scandals concerning sexual harassment.
“It’s a specific issue in the Sleeping Beauty story about sexual behaviour and consent,” she said.
Needless to say, Ms Hall’s suggestion prompted mockery as well as support, with one letter writer pointing out that Snow White lived with seven men and Rapunzel let a man into her bedroom through the window.
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One of the more startling moments on British television came 10 years ago when the Archbishop of York, the Uganda-born Dr John Sentamu, pulled off his clerical collar and producing a pair of scissors, snipped it to bits.
It was his personal protest, on BBC’s Andrew Marr Show, against Robert Mugabe’s leadership of Zimbabwe. He said Mugabe had taken the people’s identity and “cut it to pieces,” and he swore he would go collarless until Mugabe left office.
As we all know, Mugabe last month resigned the presidency under army pressure after 37 years of authoritarian rule.
When Dr Sentamu returned to television last week, Andrew Marr presented him with an envelope containing the cut-up pieces of his collar.
Said the archbishop, “You’ve kept them! That’s lovely.”
As for Mugabe, “he needs to say to Zimbabweans, ‘Forgive me’”.
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I have been wallowing recently in Keeping On Keeping On, a massive collection of observations, experiences and diary entries by Britain’s favourite playwright, Alan Bennett.
Bennett is the author of Forty Years On, The Lady in the Van, The History Boys, A Question of Attribution and other successful plays and film scripts.
A Northerner, born into a working class family (his father was a butcher) but Oxford-educated, Bennett looks on life with an amused, compassionate and sardonic eye.
Among the many hilarious real-life stories in this 539-page tome, I liked his musings on the Yorkshire Evening Post, the evening newspaper of his home town, Leeds.
People wishing to publish an In Memoriam notice on the anniversary of a loved one’s death would consult a large register in the paper’s head office for an appropriate verse.
Sometimes they adapted it to the requirements of the deceased, not always successfully. His favourite:
Down the lanes of memory
The lights are never dim.
Until the stars forget to shine
We shall remember her.
