Rule #1 - All toys are communal.
Once you bring a toy or bimba (any type of child scooter/car) into the playground and set it out so that it's visible to children, you automatically suspend your ownership of it for the duration of your playground visit. Sure, if your child really wants to play with it, then whichever other child that has taken it up must return it for the time being. Otherwise, do not be surprised to see people freely handling each other's belongings like good little Communists. To me, it is really charming how nobody seems to be afraid of theft. The unspoken rule is that one simply returns the toy to wherever it was last spotted, and the owner usually finds it back there again when it's time to go home.
Rule #2 - "Your child is not your own; s/he is the nation's."
I think this comes from Israel's culture of mandatory military conscription, and not just for the boys, as it is in Taiwan, but both genders must serve in the IDF for a minimum of two years upon 18 years of age. It builds some sort of kinship between unrelated families. As long as there is children, the adults would band together to watch over them. It's too bad I don't speak Hebrew, because usually any mom would get to know the other moms on the playground really well as their children play with each other. Nobody really keeps to themselves...unless you're that one Anglo mom that other Hebrew-speaking moms just smile at and then ignore.
A breakthrough in communication did happen this Thursday though, when I started changing Petra's diaper at the park because, well, she pooped. One of the Jewish grandmothers saw that Petra has a diaper rash, and started yelling, ahem, I mean talking, to me in Hebrew. I asked her to speak English, and she stopped. Then spoke more Hebrew, more slowly and loudly. Surprisingly, it did help (with her gestures) for me to surmise that she's instructing me on how to diaper change more effectively. She ended up forming a group of six or so other grandmothers and nannies, two of which speak decent English, to recommend me various diaper rash cream brands. Each competed to endorse their brand of choice as Petra waited, lying bare-bummed on the park ground. Finally, one of them squeezed out a huge glob of Desitin and smeared it on my hand.
This is why whenever I feel too lonely with the children, I drop by the park across the street.
Rule #3 - There is no such thing as food allergies.
The first few times I found Declan sitting in some corner of the park, munching on things unknown, I almost had a heart attack. Then it progressed to amusement as I see other moms and nannies share their children's snacks without ever asking for permission--something that would make American mothers react the way I did the first time. Now I just make sure to watch Declan as he eats the peanut bamba, cottage cheese, popsicle, ice cream, cookies, apples, etc... that he manages to get a piece of from other caretakers. Once, I didn't get there in time to stop a nanny from spoon-feeding Declan yogurt with the same spoon that she's simultaneously feeding her charge with. It was kind of gross, and I think Declan got kind of sick from it days later. Oh well... live and learn.
I would go on with more rules, such as, say, a rule #4 - Watch out for random piles of dog poop, but Declan is yelling loudly for me to start bedtime rituals and I don't want him to wake up Petra, who is the perfect child about early bedtimes. (Knock on wood.) So, good night.
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