GAMES WITH A MORAL

Southland Times, Issue 18965, 12 June 1923, Page 15

GAMES WITH A MORAL

SAFETY FIRST IN THE NURSERY. Every woman of experience, be she mother, nurse, or teacher, knows the invaluable help to be gained in the nursery from “Let’s pretend.” Under such pleasant auspices baby will quickly devour a whole plateful of porridge as he attacks first the foundation of a house, then the bedroom windows. The only way to break a child off the natural, though aggravating, habit of dawdling whilst dressing is to turn the process into a game and reward her when she hurries by letting her win the race, but seeing to it that she loses the first time she shows signs of dreaming. Children are great sticklers for the rigour of the game, says a writer in the Manchester Guardian, and soon see through and despise one in which they have been allowed to win undeservedly. Safety first games practised in the nursery become second nature in after-life, and the home is a much safer place to experiment in than the street. The Car Game is very popular. In this we clear a space down the centre of the room and place a couple of chairs close together near the entrance for the car. As the head of the family, the son and heir signals the tram, and we climb on by means of the step (a foot stool), the hand grasping the rail, right foot first, and, seating ourselves, comment on the scenery. When we see the little white cottage at the corner before Granny’s we get up, and as the conductor is invariably on top, baby’s privilege is to press the bell. We leave our seats, walk down the car (the hall) in ordered procession, baby first with boy’s hand op his shbulder tot guide him, and are ready to get off. Baby goes first, for one thing because he likes it, and for another because it is safer. Most people have suffered when witnessing a scene in which the car starts before the mother has had time to sweep her baby off the platform, or when the little one’s arm has been nearly tom off by some worried grown-up in an effort to force it down the tram steps. We stand perfectly still until the car is gone, then, looking across the road both ways, cross the nursery street. The Lost Child is another universal favourite that is acted with great spirit. The lost heroine is discovered in a flood of tears, and in answer to our questions gives her name, address, and telephone number, then braces herself for the temptation to come. Suggestions of sweets, motor rides, and visits to the cinema are all declined from a “pretend” stranger, and she is emphatic that her rescuer shall be a real policeman. A joyful reunion at the police station brings the game to an end. There is a telephone game played on a toy telephone, in which the anxious parent of a doll that has fallen and broken a leg rings up the doctor, using his real name and number. Sometimes the player at the other end explains that the doctor is out, then the anxious parent knows that to say slowly and clearly, “Well, this is very important; will you give me the name and address of another doctor I can get right away?” wins the game. She is also aware that her kindred are ready to swoop down on her at the slightest slip. Taking our tip from the fire drill at school, we have a Fire Game at home, consisting of the rescuer and rescued. If the clothes of one of the rescued are on fire he must not run out of the building, but must lie down on the floor or bed and roll himself up in the rug or quilt. As a reward for special merit in this game a member of the family is occasionally joyfully rescued by his relatives in a sheet. Dolls make excellent subjects for teaching simple bandaging, and handkerchief bandaging is a boon in a family where accidents are part of the daily routine. Safety first game can always be criticised as crossing bridges, but experience stretching from one’s own nursery days has proved that where children were trained at home to avoid danger there were very few really serious accidents, and there is no surer way of teaching this than by appealing to the play instinct.