In Pisa the children loved playing in the garden which was a large green sea surrounding the house like a moat, dotted with a sea spray of white daisies. We had parks on either side of the house too. The park on the left being mainly composed of wood and bare metals was called 'Parco Brutto', the ugly park, while the park on the left composed of brightly coloured plastic noodles and pipes was called 'Parco Bello.'
One of their favorite games to play in the park was the 'Troppo game' where I would hold onto the back of the child's swing and ask 'Troppo?' (too much?) as I pulled it back, gradually higher and higher. Of course their answer was always 'No! Non Troppo!!' Then finally when I couldn't hold back anymore I would count to three and release the swing.
Many times we charged into the park through the knee length grass and daisies like the Scotts in Braveheart, the children roaring 'PLAY THE TROPPO, PLAY.' It was exhausting, but it built up my kudos with the kids faster than anything else I did.
It was during a backbreaking session of Play the Troppo that I made a language faux pas. It was still early on in my stay in Pisa and I was still coming to terms with the Italian language, something I can only liken to catching a squirming but delicious salmon. It is pretty darn hard to get a hold of but the potential of realizing it keeps you hanging on.
After nearly ten sessions of the troppo game I was ready to collapse. I told S-: 'Ok, finito troppo-play-the-tropp! I am exhausted! Tu sei troppo pertanza!' The little girl looked at me then burst into laughter.
What I had meant to say was: 'no more! you and the swing are too heavy', however the word I had meant to use was perzante, not Pertanza...which not only is gibberish in Italian, but sounds ridiculous too.
S- found it so funny she found it necessary to tell everyone, her parents, her brother, her 2 year old sister, even the dog. When she told her father, laughing with tears in her eyes, he choked back a chuckle, but insisted it wasn't such a big deal to save me some embarrassment. But when he turned back to his painting I saw him shake his head and chortle to himself.
After that point I became Pertanza La Strega: Pertanza the witch.
Playing with children can be very amusing, particularly I find with children under the age of four. They are remarkably clever but still able to lose themselves completely in the moment of the game. The girls S (7yrs) and J (2yrs) loved nothing more than being chased around their spacious garden, and sometimes would become so immersed in the game they would lose track of reality. The little one J- in particular found herself swept up into the moment emotionally often with hilarious consequences.
One play session when I, Pertanza the witch, was chasing them around the garden 'in order to eat them' (more like tickle them) I managed to grab hold of the speedy S and was treating her to a tickling session as she laughed and kicked for freedom. While doing so I felt something tapping me sharply on the back. I turned to find the 2 year old hitting me with a little purple spade, a look of deadly determination and anger on her face. Despite her tiny stature she was actually managing to hurt me! Ooops. She was obviously taking her sister's capture a bit too seriously.
'Stop. stop, stop!' I ordered.
I paused the game, dropped my witch persona and calmly asked the two girls if they understood that we were just playing a game. We were just pretending. I wasn't really a witch and they weren't really going to be eaten by anyone...just a game!
They nodded and the game resumed. S- scrambled free but after ten minutes or so I had soon recaptured her with my outstretched arms, shaped into giant witch's claws. She shrieked but to my horror she was immediately joined by the distressed wails of her little sister. I turned around once again to find the little one pulling hard at my jumper desperately trying to pry me off her entrapped older sister, tears streaming down her bright red terrified/enraged face. She reminded me of a desperate Sam Gamgee, trying to save his beloved Frodo from Gollum.
'STOP! STOP! STOP!' I cried once more.
I paused the game and picked the little one up. I wiped her tears away and asked her again if she understood that we were just playing! There was no need to be scared or to cry! Solo Giocare! Just playing! I wasn't really going to eat her sister! Just tickle her! She nodded and smiled sheepishly.
I put her down with a little hug and the game resumed, but once again...things ended in tears. Patting her on the back to calm her down from the experience of nearly being 'eaten by Pertanza the witch' I meekly suggested we all just watch Peppa Pig for a while on TV to calm down.
It was enough Pertanza for one day for everyone.
For the little one I found she more than often took her games a bit too seriously, bless her little heart. She also enjoyed the 'Mio, Mia' game where she would point to one of her beloved items, either her Mum, her dog, her barbie and declare it hers with an assertive 'Mio!' or 'Mia!' It was always meant as a challenge, she expected me to then assume my witch persona and contradict her.
'Noooo!' I would hiss, and grab the confused family dog zinka. 'Mio!!!' The dog is MINE!' However I began to find ways to avoid this game when the poor little girl started taking things too seriously. One day when I insisted that no, the family dog was mine she promptly burst into tears.
Once again I solved the dramatic situation with some episodes of good ol' Peppa Pig. And from then on when she would declare the dog hers, to her vast disappointment I would simply agree.
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