Thoughts from the Playground
We visited the playground today. This wasn’t our normal playground; this was a special playground where the temperature is always 72, the equipment is never wet, and a guy with a “badge” kicks you out if you won’t remove your shoes.
Our stop at the mall playground was unscheduled. I had planned to move directly from the mall-based big box store to our restaurant, but we spent less time at the mall than I had intended. The clearanced Easter merchandise was already thin, as evidenced by the absence of chocolate filled Cadbury eggs. They only had a few Easter-themed children’s clothes as well, and as cute as that limited selection of t-shirts and skirts would be next year, this is still Iowa where the opportunities to wear short sleeves and short pants before Easter are limited in a warm year.
Since it was still half-an-hour before the scheduled suppertime and nobody was hungry, not even Tory who’s always hungry for an ounce or six, we stopped at the playground to kill time and hopefully work up an appetite in Abbie. Before the twins came*, I frequently took Abbie to this playground, maybe once a week or more. It was a good way to expose Abbie to other children without having to worry about the weather or the remains of dogs that seem to enjoy our regular playground too much. We don’t leave the house nearly as much these days, meaning our excursions to all manner of locations have drastically declined, whether they be shopping for Vital Supplies, playing at faraway playgrounds, or procuring frozen custard.
I think this was Abbie’s second visit to the mall playground since the twins came home. The last visit was when the twins were much younger and still slept almost the entire time they left the house. Now they just sleep in the car and sit quietly without the vibrating chair that is their car seat. Soon they’ll hit the next phase of whining for things they want in the store, but for now we’re enjoying their serenity.
While Ellie loaded our purchases into the car, I sat the boys in their carriers on the floor next to my bench and watched Abbie run around the playground, working up an appetite. She climbed the slide, jumped on the decorative floor fish, and smiled at the other parents resting on benches. Abbie was having fun on her own and I felt bad for the twins staring blankly at the ceiling from their carriers, so I pulled Ian out to give him a better view of the fun he cannot comprehend. Abbie, sensing my hands were full, took the opportunity to bolt from the playground. I leapt to my feet with Ian over my shoulder and caught her at the sign decreeing the playground rules. I led her back to the slide and reassumed my position on the bench. The instant my butt met vinyl, she turned tail and ran back out the entrance. She made it to the mall’s central plaza before I caught her this time. I returned her to the playground while hoping that nobody, especially Tory, minded that I left him unattended 100 yards away from me while I corralled my oldest.
By this time Ellie had returned, and elected to spend her time keeping Abbie entertained and running on the playground’s carpet. I sat and watched with Ian still in my hands. I thought about how this mostly stationary mass of baby could start wandering this playground in a few months. I thought about how much fun he would have crawling up and down the ramp, and investigating those decorative fish. I thought about how big those older kids who were just learning to walk seemed. I thought about trying to keep three children in the playground simultaneously.
Suddenly I was ready to leave. We packed the twins back up, slipped on Abbie’s sandals, and walked to the car. Someday Abbie will enjoy playing on the playground with her brothers, but for today she’s more intent on enjoying her McNuggets.
* “Before the twins came” may be the most common way for me to start a sentence over the last five months.
Our stop at the mall playground was unscheduled. I had planned to move directly from the mall-based big box store to our restaurant, but we spent less time at the mall than I had intended. The clearanced Easter merchandise was already thin, as evidenced by the absence of chocolate filled Cadbury eggs. They only had a few Easter-themed children’s clothes as well, and as cute as that limited selection of t-shirts and skirts would be next year, this is still Iowa where the opportunities to wear short sleeves and short pants before Easter are limited in a warm year.
Since it was still half-an-hour before the scheduled suppertime and nobody was hungry, not even Tory who’s always hungry for an ounce or six, we stopped at the playground to kill time and hopefully work up an appetite in Abbie. Before the twins came*, I frequently took Abbie to this playground, maybe once a week or more. It was a good way to expose Abbie to other children without having to worry about the weather or the remains of dogs that seem to enjoy our regular playground too much. We don’t leave the house nearly as much these days, meaning our excursions to all manner of locations have drastically declined, whether they be shopping for Vital Supplies, playing at faraway playgrounds, or procuring frozen custard.
I think this was Abbie’s second visit to the mall playground since the twins came home. The last visit was when the twins were much younger and still slept almost the entire time they left the house. Now they just sleep in the car and sit quietly without the vibrating chair that is their car seat. Soon they’ll hit the next phase of whining for things they want in the store, but for now we’re enjoying their serenity.
While Ellie loaded our purchases into the car, I sat the boys in their carriers on the floor next to my bench and watched Abbie run around the playground, working up an appetite. She climbed the slide, jumped on the decorative floor fish, and smiled at the other parents resting on benches. Abbie was having fun on her own and I felt bad for the twins staring blankly at the ceiling from their carriers, so I pulled Ian out to give him a better view of the fun he cannot comprehend. Abbie, sensing my hands were full, took the opportunity to bolt from the playground. I leapt to my feet with Ian over my shoulder and caught her at the sign decreeing the playground rules. I led her back to the slide and reassumed my position on the bench. The instant my butt met vinyl, she turned tail and ran back out the entrance. She made it to the mall’s central plaza before I caught her this time. I returned her to the playground while hoping that nobody, especially Tory, minded that I left him unattended 100 yards away from me while I corralled my oldest.
By this time Ellie had returned, and elected to spend her time keeping Abbie entertained and running on the playground’s carpet. I sat and watched with Ian still in my hands. I thought about how this mostly stationary mass of baby could start wandering this playground in a few months. I thought about how much fun he would have crawling up and down the ramp, and investigating those decorative fish. I thought about how big those older kids who were just learning to walk seemed. I thought about trying to keep three children in the playground simultaneously.
Suddenly I was ready to leave. We packed the twins back up, slipped on Abbie’s sandals, and walked to the car. Someday Abbie will enjoy playing on the playground with her brothers, but for today she’s more intent on enjoying her McNuggets.
* “Before the twins came” may be the most common way for me to start a sentence over the last five months.
posted by Matt at
11:06 PM
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