Quo Vadis, See-Saw?

It was a pleasantly warm spring night. The barely-setting sun painted the sky in bold oranges and reds, and the air smelled of sweetness. I was at the park, sitting on the swings with my four-year-old boy, when he spied the see-saw and asked me to take him to it.

Things have changed since I was a wee lad. I remember the see-saw as being a potentially dangerous piece of playground machinery; the possibility of having one’s family jewels spontaneously rearranged was always close at hand.

In fact, this was part of the allure of the see-saw. The element of danger. The knowledge that some amount of skill was required in order to avoid the junk-jangling scenario made the see-saw something of a challenge – and what young male doesn’t thrive on the notion of competition?

It was an art form, really. You knew the other guy might jump off his seat at any moment, and you would have to be instantly prepared. You had to act quickly, and if you timed it right, you could stiffen your legs as you plummeted to the earth, landing firmly on your two feet while your see-saw seat safely fell away beneath you. The jewels would be allowed to live another day, and your opponent knew he’d been bested by your cat-like reflexes.

This sort of thing was part of growing up as a Man-child, and learning to navigate the see-saw experience was part of every young lad’s initiation, a vital part of his growing-up formation, and an endless source of experiential wealth. I dare say that the potentially-dangerous see-saw of my childhood is responsible for making me the man I am today.

All of this has changed. As my son and I mounted the new and improved see-saw, I noticed something different. No longer do see-saw makers favor the classic lever-and-fulcrum construction for the playground ride. No. The see-saw that I sat on that evening was something newfangled, featuring a spring-loaded “fulcrum” that essentially tethered the “lever”, controlling how high one end of the lever could go, and – more importantly – how low to the ground the other end of the lever would dip.

Essentially, this new see-saw construction has eliminated the possibility of roughing up your opponent’s genitals.

Yes, perhaps those who ride on this family-friendly see-saw can still have a good time, but clearly, they will be growing soft, weak, and weenie-like in the process. There is no danger. There is no competition. In short, the nutsacks belonging to young lads on the modern see-saw are safe from all harm, and were so from the moment they mounted the G-rated ride.

As my son and I finished our little romp on the sissy-saw, he ran over to me, eyes sparkling and smile beaming.

“That was fun, Daddy! Can we do it again?”, he asked.

And as I looked into the beautiful face of my little boy, I began to become enraged at what our society is doing to our children. Because of alleged “safety concerns”, he will never know the life-changing, character-forming experiences that I was permitted to encounter as a result of playing with my mates on a normal see-saw.

I vowed then and there that my son would not be cheated in this way. He would not be robbed of so critical a part of childhood, something so necessary to building his well-roundedness as a functioning member of society.

He looked up at me, smiling, awaiting my answer – could we ride again?

I looked down at him, determined.

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And then I kicked him in the balls.

–Jacob Michael
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