Double Dutch

I can’t take a picture of the childeren and me doing Double Dutch.

I can’t even get someone to turn Double Dutch with me.

I can hardly find anyone to turn the rope so that the children and I can do ordinary skipping. 

Sometimes I tie the rope to the arm of one of the lawn chairs, but after a few good rounds of hard skipping, either the chair starts sliding around, or the tied rope begins to loose its knots and slips loose.

I also use Betty, Michael and Alice as rope turners. Alice’s arm gets tired quite soon. Michael would rather be skipping than turning so he is only good for a few minutes. Betty finds so much joy in letting the rope go just as we are at the height of our skipping fun, and her eyes sparkle and dance so much as she does it, that I don’t like to have her in on what is another game for her and not the skipping one I want to have happen.

One day I told Michael to go over and beg either his mother or father to come outside so we could try double dutch. He did his best work for soon Richard came out of the house – first taking out the compost to the green bin; then taking out the plastic and paper to the blue bin. Finally stopping to help us for a moment.

Turning Double Dutch is an art. Seven, five and three year olds are not skilled at t “jumping in” to Double Dutch. And in our case, the turners aren’t skilled enough to start the ropes, either without them becoming tangled, or with them turning at a rate that matches the rhythm of the skippers.

Add to that the problem that Betty wants to take a turn; in addition, Sumarga Pun occasionally wanders through the area where the ropes are turning.

Just to let the reader imagine that there is a lot going on in the backyard while it seems that only rope skipping is happening.

We did have some success. Michael got into the ropes for 4 jumps; Alice made it through 7 skips of the ropes.

We stopped skipping by hailing those two moments as success beyond our wildest dreams.

We also stopped because the children are so tired, breathless really, and Michael sometimes holding his side where a “stitch” is going on and because he can no longer catch his breath.

I love backyard play.

Arta