By Alex Iwashyna, blogger at Late Enough
We pull into the parking lot and the playground is within view. Other people’s children are everywhere.
My four year old son, E: Look! Friends!
Me: Look! Potential disasters!
Disaster 1: The kids don’t want anything to do with my son. This is the easiest to handle if I can duct tape my mouth shut. I become E’s playmate. More work on my part, but I’m way more fun that those loser kids anyway. And all I have to do is not say that last sentence out loud!
Disaster 2: The kids are figuratively mean to my son. They keep running away from E or always making him ‘it.” Which is the worst because it brings up THE MIDDLE SCHOOL YEARS for me. Bam! I’m back by my locker and a popular kid asks me to stop coming to the Little League games because I was bad luck for his team. Don’t pay any attention to the fact that they SUCKED at baseball. Post-flashback, I have no idea how much to intercede because I’m not quite clear if my son KNOWS he’s being mistreated. But I know. So usually I call the kids out on it. And appropriately glare at the parents.
Disaster 3: The kids are literally mean to my son. They call him names or taunt him. Now this has only happened once. And I told E quite loudly: That boy is NOT behaving right. Just ignore him. Which worked except I was SO UPSET by the situations that we left ten minutes later. Then I kept thinking: OMG I’m the worst example EVER. But we would have left within the next twenty minutes so it was just a little bit earlier, right? And it just seemed easier than confronting the six-year-old jerk and his lazy mother. (Seriously. They were wearing shirts that said that. I’m not being judgmental.)
Disaster 4: The kids are troublemakers. They throw sand, run up the slide backwards and fight with sticks. Which means my son throws sand, runs up the slide backwards and fights with sticks. Except my son tends to have better aim. So I get to police all the kids. Until my son pokes a kid’s eye out. Then I get to apologize.
Disaster 5: The kids are weird. I had three children-of-the-corn follow me around a play area until I stopped speaking to them. I just pretended that they weren’t putting toys in their mouths and then handing them to me while hiding machetes behind their backs. I also taught my children kung fu that night.
Disaster 6: The moms purposefully ignore me. This is actually no big deal if my BFF is charged. {iPhone hug} But without a signal? I’m reduced to make fun of the other mom’s hat. Or $700 stroller. IN MY MIND. And I pray that I remember all the hilarious banter for when I get back to Twitter. Or my blog. You’re welcome.
So if you see me pull into the parking lot in my mini-minivan and just keep going around and around, don’t be alarmed. My iPhone isn’t charged, your child looks mean, and I’m uncomfortable that you’re wearing $100 yoga pants when you haven’t been near a yoga mat ever.
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