At playground at every age and stage
Before we had children, I didn’t pay attention to playgrounds. City parks were for sunbathing, for noshing on snacks while somewhere in the distance, outside of my peripheral vision, children screamed and shouted.
Of course, that changed after we became parents. Now, I keep track of playgrounds within a wide radius, with the avidity I once reserved for the latest restaurants and bars. I know if the playgrounds are gated, if there’s a splash pad, if there’s a paved path for riding scooters, if there’s a zip line or a climbing structure that doubles as modern art.
In the late 19th century, the first public playgrounds appeared in Germany, followed by Boston in 1886. By the early 20th century, playgrounds offered welcome public space to get children out of tenements and off the streets. Nowadays, whether in cities or suburbs, they are vital public spaces, where the community comes together and children test their strength and their daring, and learn how to play with others.
The twins are about to turn 6 and will age out of the 0-5 “tot lots,” though for years, they’ve beelined for the “big kid” play structures. Now we have to remind them to be careful, to avoid knocking over the little ones on the playground — the little ones they used to be.
How quickly the years have gone by! In truth, hours at the playground can drag on, and some parents try to get creative to relieve their boredom. I’ve witnessed a father pushing his baby in a swing; in between, he struck the yoga warrior pose. In other moments, exhausted from juggling work and child-rearing, all you want to do is sink down onto the nearest bench and surreptitiously check your email while your kids shout, “Watch me!”
Going somewhere new keeps it interesting for the entire family, and on a recent weekend, we hit three different playgrounds around the Bay Area.
At Lake Merritt in Oakland, the twins rode their scooters, excited by the profusion of geese, ducks and pigeons, before jumping onto the play structure. To my amazement, Didi swung hand over hand on the monkey bars, which he’d been too timid to attempt until then. I could tell he was a little scared too, yet also proud he’d moved beyond his limits — and so was I.
The next day, we visited the newly renovated Mountain Lake Park in San Francisco, on the edge of the Presidio. It was sunny, though fog banked the nearby Golden Gate Bridge. “It’s a $3 million playground!” I said, trying to impress the twins.
They didn’t care. They loved the wide concrete slide, and clambered over what looked like a giant pile of logs while my husband and I picnicked with our friends.
Rounding out the weekend, we played in Dimond Park in Oakland, which was hosting a free performance by Circus Bella. Under the shady oak trees, the twins giggled and marveled at the acrobat climbing a pole, and another who spun a table end-over-end with her feet. Afterward they raced around with my cousin’s children on the playground, hitting buttons on a beeping orange console.
I asked my cousin how long our kids would still want to go to the playground. Third grade? Fourth? We didn’t know, because our children haven’t yet reached that stage. The upper age range listed on some structures is 12 — the seventh grade — but I don’t know how many middle schoolers are still on the playground. I know I wasn’t.
That’s a great pity. One notable exception is the Magical Bridge Playground in Palo Alto, a socially inclusive playground designed for all abilities and all ages, where grannies and grandkids alike cavort on the equipment. Earlier this year, the Santa Clara County Board of Supervisors set aside $10 million to go toward accessible playgrounds modeled after Magical Bridge.
There’s a hunger for play that lasts long beyond childhood — and by that, I mean activities that make you feel like a kid again. Consider the popularity of the “America Ninja Warrior” television show, in which competitors hoist, jump, run and climb through a giant obstacle course that’s superhumanly tough yet also seems fun. At Burning Man later this month, attendees will don glittery costumes and ride their bikes around the playa in Nevada.
As our children climbed onto a Dimond Park play structure, my cousin told me about the time her mother brought her and her siblings to a new playground. They were all adults by then, without kids of their own yet. Their mother looked at them expectantly, as if to say, “Go play!” My cousins complied.
“The mothers were giving us dirty looks,” she said with a laugh.
At that moment, we noticed a father hanging upside down by his feet on a pole, like the circus acrobat we’d just seen. Startling and strange, but in retrospect, I’m thinking we should have joined him.
Come out and play!
There’s a hunger for play that lasts long beyond childhood.