I spent part of my Sunday helping in the Nursery at our church.
It was an experience.
Twenty little kids, ages 1 ½ to 3 years.
What do you call a group of toddlers?
A tantrum of toddlers?
It would be worth exploring.
I know what you call a group of parents/grandparents who have spent the ensuing two hours with the little cretins. A tired.
But I digress . . .
This little group of boys and girls had been playing happily.
Reading books. (I use this term lightly.)
Playing with puzzles. (Again used lightly.)
Throwing balls and other toys at each other.
‘Cooking’ such gourmet specialties as . . . trucks. Shoes. At least one book. And two of the puzzle pieces we had been hunting for for over twenty minutes.
Playing with dollies.
Fighting/tug-o-warring with said dollies.
Crying when dollies were put away in a safe place and other toys introduced.
Falling off the slide.
Devouring their neighbour’s snacks.
Before you think any of them were in any real danger, let me disabuse you.
No one was in any real danger.
There were few tears (mostly at losing their tug-o-war prop) and no injuries.
But I discovered something.
When a group of toddlers is running madly and the room is started to resemble the streets of Edmonton after the Stanley Cup, all one has to do is turn on the bubble machine.
It’s true. I watched it happen.
The bubbles instantly attracted (and held) the entire group of toddlers.
They (the bubbles, I mean) floated gently into the air and every child in the room stopped what they were doing and exclaimed, as one, “Oooooh!” Then they ran to the blanket/blotter beside the machine and jumped and hopped, trying to catch the little, dripping, glistening balls of wonder and amazement.
It was incredible. Magical.
I’m getting a machine like that!
P.S. I wonder if this would work on the mobs that form after sporting events or political rallies? It's worth thinking about . . .