Clingy. Like a dryer sheet.

This is one of the toys at our west end playground. Not exactly sure what it is, but to the lil' man it is "the horsey thing." And yes. There is a reason that "we" put a dome of sand on the seat. But, I'll get to that in a bit.

I think it was Sunday afternoon that our whole family took a trip to the playground. Which is rare, 'cause usually when mommy is around, daddy likes to have some alone time. There was a mom and her son already playing in the large 40' by 40' sandbox. Sweet! Someone for the lil' man to play with. Mommy/wifey walked over to them to say hi, and like she always does, commented on the lil' boys hat. Even though she doesn't wear hats, she has a thing for hats. The other mom said thank you and started to explain the hat. "Well, I bought it at such-and-such place. It has a strap that is designed to release when someone tries to pull it off. So the child wearing it doesn't get their head ripped off." The lil' man was already testing out the design. He does not like wearing hats and always tries to rip them off other kids. He tugged. The strap didn't release. Now, I've seen the lil' man pick up a 10lb barbell, so I know he's pretty darn strong. Maybe he didn't give it his all. Perhaps a design flaw. One thing is for sure, the other mom was horrified. I assume that the signature line from The Lord of the Rings rang out in her head "my precious."

The other boy was not interested in playing with our lil' man, so our lil' man ventured out to the big playground. The big kids are always interested in some runnin' around. I was still too tired from the week, so I just sat down in the sandbox and zoned out. Mommy's turn to chase our lil' man. Unfortunately, I couldn't get in my zone. The other mommy was way to uptight for that. Continually giving her boy directions to follow. "Don't do that." "We don't do this." "No." Never letting the poor child out of her reach. I just sat and watched. I never get involved in other peoples parenting. Not my place. Not my concern. Why should I care how someone else fucks up their kid? We're all gonna fuck 'em up in some way.

But then. The other mommy starting parenting two little girls that were peacefully playing by themselves on the other side of the sandbox. "Girls. Girls. Don't do that." They didn't respond. She walked over to them. "Girls! I said not to do that. Don't put sand on that." You see, the little girls were putting sand on the "horsey thing." They looked up at her towering figure, they were frozen. I don't think they spoke English. They got up and briskly walked away abandoning their buckets of sand. The other mommy looked at me for what seemed to be a look of approval, but what she got was a  look that probably expressed: What the fuck is wrong with you? Just let the fucking kids play. They weren't in danger. They weren't breaking shit. They weren't hurting anyone. They weren't throwing shit at other kids. They weren't cursing. They weren't anywhere near your precious.

We were packing up to head home. We bumped into the other mom and her son having a snack. "Would your lil' man like some." The lil' man was curious and took a look, so did I. It appeared to be some sort of homemade veagan flour-less banana bread. The lil' man just stared at it, I think he finally realized that it wasn't his, but wanted it to be his. He took a bite and off he went. Mommy followed. Leaving me alone with them, again. Fuck.

She started telling me about this stay-at-home mother's group in our 'hood. "We get together and share parenting tips, give advice, and just hang out. Would you like to come? What's your email address? I'll add you to the mailing list." HELL YEAH! That sounds fucking amazing! Just the type of environment that my personality shines in. I gave her the wifey's email address. Let mommy deal with this. She's nice. She's gentle. She'll know what to do.

Now, back to that dome of sand on the "horsey thing" ... I know it might seem douchey. But I'm not douchey. I just like to play and have a little fun. I like to challenge people and the way that they are or are not. How do we learn, grow, and change if we aren't challenged? How could "we" resist putting that dome of sand on the "horsey thing"—when there's a chance that the other mother might be the next to use it.