I went to a beautiful well-designed children’s museum this weekend. Crowds of probably highly educated, relatively affluent couples were dragging their disgruntled children all over the place. “Look honey, there’s the red ant colonies! And the lunar lander! And bars of light to dance with!” I saw strollers that put Mercedes Benz to shame. The older children got to work pushing the buttons, twirling the dials, making balloons fly, dropping balls into contraptions. The place was a hive of activity. But I saw nothing of play. I think the ants would understand what I saw better than I did. Do this! Do that! Move fast! I’m afraid we’re raising something akin to worker bees, to drones. Little cogs to help the wheels turn. I watched kids run back and forth, and I despaired. The human race is doomed.
I hear what you’re saying. Even the fun is work, tasky.
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I agree. I don’t think I was like that — I hope I wasn’t.
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