A lesson — do as I say, not as I do

A walk through the neighbourhood gives Alan A Carlton an unexpected education

I GO walking with my grandkids. I see a gap in the stream of cars and grab my opportunity and rush across the road. My grandkids linger oon the footpath.

I find myself, by myself, on one side of the road with my grandkids huddling together in safety on the other side of tthe road. I hurriedly rush back aacross the road.

I say to my silent grandkids: “I just did the wrong thing.

Can you tell me what did I do wrong?”

Bruce says: “You crossed the road.”

I say: “Yes that’s right. I crossed the road when it was not safe. I should have waited.”

I say: “I will now show you the safe way to cross the road. Stand safe on the footpath. Look up and down the road. Tell me when it’s safe to cross the road. Look this way and then that way.”

They say all the right things and we cross safely. We don’t rush.

As we wander we approach a low brick fence. Kay and Gertrude argue about who is going first on the fence. Bruce just climbs up and walks along the fence dodging the bushes. They all follow him. They tell me, “You are not allowed up here.”

We continue our amble. It occurs to me that making a mistake has been a good learning experience. My mistake has raised an important topic. It has helped reinforce the correct way to safely cross a dangerous road.

I notice Kay has a flower in her hair. She looks charming and cute but there must be a garden we have just passed that looks a little more barren. Must mention to her if she picks a flower other people don’t get to see it. Maybe she picked a flower overlapping the path and getting in the way?

Further along we approach a big, annoying, barking dog.

I must get them to learn that this is a dog to avoid. That this dog is not one to pat. He looks ugly, scary and frightening. More a guard dog than a friendly pet dog. I stick my hand between the palings and pretend to pat the dog.

I then say: “Whatever you do. Don’t do this. This dog is not one for patting.”

Kay says: “Why not?”

I turn to face her and say: “Glad you said that.”

The dog grabs my finger. I feel the teeth pierce my skin. I feel the teeth grinding on my knuckles. I can even hear it. Ah that hurts. It really aches. Please let go.

I pull and pull and pull and eventually unite my blood stained hand with the rest of me. Blood drips on the footpath and on my pants. I grab a hanky and hid my finger in it. They laugh uncontrollably. They laugh loudly. They nudge each other. They all say to each other:

“Did you see that?”

As well as laughing they are curious. They all watch the blood stain as it increases in size. They are fascinated as the blood stain grows.

They all want to look at my cut finger. I exhibit my finger.

They are now quiet. So I say: “What have we learnt?”

Kay: “Carry a handkerchief.”

Bruce: “That’s right. You always need a hanky.”

Kay: “That’s right. You don’t want blood on your clothes.”

As we wander on I realise I have made another mistake. It was a mistake to think they only learn from mistakes.

I notice Kay has a flower in her hair. She looks cute but there must be a garden we have just passed that looks a little more barren.