Neil Humphreys: Let kids play in the rain — S'pore doesn't need babies with brollies
On Singaporean streets, children are suffering. Elsewhere, children are suffering from famine, war, drones and the consequences of Donald Trump pointing at a map and saying, 'Can I play toy soldiers with that one?"
But we have suffering children, too. We have children walking in the rain. On their own. Splashing through puddles and everything. They even have this weird, contorted look on their faces.
It's called smiling.
No wonder Yvonne Lareina's video picked up a million views in one day. The clip showed her daughter, Melody, soaked to the skin and merrily splashing through muddy puddles like Peppa Pig. Yvonne loved her daughter's carefree independence and Melody enjoyed her walk in the drizzle.
Judging by some of the comments, however, you'd think Melody was being waterboarded in a Serangoon Gardens puddle while being forced to listen to Harry Styles' latest single on a loop. (Yes, I took that analogy too far. No teenager should be forced to listen to Harry Styles' latest single on a loop.)
Some wondered why Melody had been left out in the rain for so long, seemingly confusing the poor girl for a row of lettuces.
Others suggested the parents might have produced an umbrella, perhaps assuming Mum and Dad were in the Magic Circle and shared a knack for conjuring objects from thin air.
A few critics insisted that the parents should've offered their contented daughter a lift home, even though Melody was clearly enjoying a little alone time, which I fully empathise with. My daughter would walk in the rain to stay away from her father. But then, my daughter would walk across broken glass to stay away from her father.
It's normal and healthy, even necessary, to allow teenagers a chance to breathe — away from parents, teachers, tutors and textbooks — just a little time to exhale and smell the damp roses. But this is rarely allowed in Singapore, for several reasons.
The overprotective Singapore support team
First, our children are not allowed to suffer. They rarely get through the treacherous ordeal of a stroll through a shopping mall without being chased by the kind of support team that follows a cyclist in the Tour De France.
The helper carries the water bottles. Mummy has the tissue packets and Daddy has the 4D tickets to pay for the kids' tuition. Every angle is covered.
At a food court, when the support team descends to quench the kid's thirst, feed him a spoonful of rice and wipe his mouth, it's like watching a Formula One pit crew change tyres. The kid has just celebrated his 18th birthday, but that's not the point.
No child gets left behind in Singapore. No one suffers.
Second, what was Melody even doing playing outside in the daytime? Surely, there was a tuition centre within walking distance.
Seeing kids playing outside in the daytime is like seeing a national football team succeed at a major tournament. It does happen occasionally, but mostly in other countries. (There may be a pattern here, but I'm no expert. I couldn't even answer that PSLE maths question.)
Whatever next? Kids surfing outside their HDB blocks? Oh wait, we had that, too. Last month, cheeky scamps were spotted surfing across flooded gardens after heavy storms. They were drenched and muddy and clearly suffering. If this barbaric treatment of our children continues, Angelina Jolie will start adopting them.
I can even picture Unicef ambassador Liam Neeson, looking solemn for the camera, and using that gravelly voice to say: "Every minute, a child walks home in the rain in Singapore. Every storm, a child goes on a surfing safari outside his HDB block. So, please, donate whatever you can to end the suffering. Together, we can send these kids back to an air-conditioned shopping mall."
Why a little hardship matters
When it comes to the concept of a child's "suffering", we may have moved the goalposts a little, and that's after we cushioned the goalposts and shoved them into a temperature-controlled, indoor play centre.
A child's resilience cannot be bought, tutored or outsourced. It's ingrained through splashing in the rain, surfing through a garden, or even fishing in a river. It's the rare human quality that AI cannot replicate or replace.
Of course, there's nothing more tedious than a middle-aged man ranting about how things were better "back in my day" — many things were much worse — but it's certainly true that my formidable mother essentially kicked me out of the house when the school holidays started and said: "Go and play football with your friends. I'll see you in a month."
And we did. Along the way, we built a certain resistance to life's challenges. Why would we deny our kids a similar opportunity?
Children don't need to be wrapped in cotton wool. They need to be battle-hardened for the three existential crises of our time: climate change, AI, and that bloody P6 maths question.
Neil Humphreys is an award-winning writer and MONEY FM radio host, a successful author and a failed footballer.
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