Classic

Yesterday a little boy looked down at me and in the most disgusted voice said “You don’t KNOW what a Gogo is?” Then he rolled his eyes and walked away.

Kids can be so mean.

(By no means is this an example of how I’m out of the loop, not with it, losing touch with the younger generation or the dreaded 3 lettered “O” word that ends in “D” and the middle letter is “L” for loser.)

Seriously, what is a Gogo? I’ve never heard of it, let alone seen one.

The little boy was too disgusted to associate with me or educate me. So I waited till he took out some colourful objects out of his pouch and proceeded to lay out in two groups these miniature plastic figures that reminded me of Pokemon. (Although anything that vaguely resembles a cute monster I immediately think Pokemon). I’m unsure of the rules. I don’t think I was the only one.


The main idea is you flick a monster into the pack of standing monsters and try knock down as many as possible.

I’m thinking glorified modernised spin on marbles.

But you can’t beat the classics. Recess and lunch time spent practicing your technique, walking up the hill to where the big kids played in the big leagues. Beautiful shiny marbles that glistened in the sun, bigger then a 20cent piece with 2/3rds of it pushed into the sand. 5 minutes later, 30 marbles less then what you started with, you win the prize only to realise its chipped and missing the bottom half, all you have to show for the day’s hard work – a rock.

When the husband was little and possibly slightly cuter then he is now he had the prize – a yellow pearl, the jewel amongst all marble enthusiasts. At the big leagues (the sand pit), showcasing this pearl brought fame and glory. One sunny lunch time, doing the usual rounds of showcasing, an older boy started harassing him to play the yellow pearl. He didn’t want to. This pearl brought untold wealth and prestige and to gamble it in a game of marbles, for what? – The chance to upstage a bigger boy? But the bigger boy persisted and bullied him into it.

The atmosphere was tense, a crowd had gathered to watch, to witness the history of the yellow pearl. They pushed and shoved as they vied for a better position to view the action, there were screams and shouts of excitement and it all stopped as the first marble flew out of the bigger boy’s hand. Not a sound to be heard then a clink. With a smug look from the bigger boy, he demanded HIS yellow pearl. My husband, in shock, sad to lose his prized possession squeezed shut his eyes, opened his little mouth and howled. His crying so tormented, the tears running down his smudged face could soften anyone’s heart. And soften it did. A teacher came and forced the bigger older boy to return the yellow pearl to the rightful owner.

The next day at school – marbles was banned.