The Park

The Park. We go to the park minimum four, maximum fourteen (when on holiday) times a week - that works out to twice a day. We live in an apartment so we need to get the kids out to get fresh air, run around, get tired and get dirty. I love seeing them have fun, I love taking them home filthy and tired. But oh boy, there are times when I absolutely cannot stand the park. And you know why? It's not the other kids. It's the dang adults.

Oh the tales I could tell. Oh OK then, I will. This week, for example. We went to the pebble park. So we brought the sand toys because you can use a spade and bucket and a dump truck or two with pebbles. Of course a few other little ones honed in on the toys and that is great because I want my kids to share and play with others. So play they did. And then, inevitably, a few issues arose. So inspired by this and other incidents, I have created a few categories of Idiot Adults Who Accompany Kids to the Park. Here are some:

Distracted or Whimsical Fathers
Children under the age of 3? 4? really do not know how to play together and I don't expect them to. I do expect the parent/grandfather/carer to intervene when the kid does something unacceptable within the limits of their little age range, for example hitting, grabbing, etc. etc. So when little Gabriele grabbed the spade from Elias' hand and his father, busy sending text messages on his cell, totally ignored the situation, I intervened.

Thus ensued the fight between me and a two-year-old to get spade back (OK maybe not my best moment but what the heck). I started calling the kid's father even! In the end I just let go of the damn spade and said, "OK forget it. Elias this kid isn't worth it," and then his father intervened. By taking his kid, who of course started crying, home. Nice one, dad. So much for educating, explaining and resolving. The guy was probably blaming me too. Whatever.

There was another unforgettable time when Evil Child was busy and repeatedly shoving his smaller "friend" down the slide while their fathers chatted together, oblivious to the littler one's crying. When Evil Child's hand reached for my boy's bottom to do the same, I gently but decisively grabbed his wrist and said, "No, we don't do that". He went whimpering to his father (who had forgotten he existed) who asked him what was wrong. Evil Child couldn't explain and you know, I didn't volounteer to help out there.

Well-Meaning and Not-So-Well-Meaning Grandparents
Back to this week's park experience. While Gabriele and I were having our tug-of-war, not-so-little (older than Elias) Filippo was busy emptying a toy pram and filling it with pebbles. His grandfather was also busy on his cell phone. Filippo was a decent kid but he could have set a car on fire, chopped down a tree and thrown himself off the bridge into the river and his grandfather would have been oblivious. When the mother of the owner of the aforementioned pram discovered its fate, I had to say to her, "we didn't do that" or else she would have blamed us. I thought it was Filippo's sister's so I hadn't said anything in the first place. Oh, his grandfather never noticed...

Wild Child is what I called a kid, 3 and a half, running wild in the park while grandmother ever so vaguely looked on. When said Wild Child began grabbing from René who started giving him a kind but firm lesson by telling him that's not how we do things, grandmother vaguely intervened - but only after about 5 minutes of jumping, screaming, grabbing Wild Child's antics - and blamed daycare for her grandchild's behaviour. We walked away, shaking our collective heads.

Mothers Who Need to Get Dirty
Oh the parents who take their kids to the park and then yell at them for getting dirty.

I secretly envision them slipping in dog doo on their way home from the park and messing up their designer shoes forever.

So let's set the scene. You have a child. You dress them really well in total designer clothes. You take them to the park. You do not let them go down the slide because it is dirty. You ignore them because you need to check your cell phone or chat to some other superficial mother. You finally realise your child's been missing for 20 minutes, you locate child and then you give them hell because they're dirty.

One time we were busy getting filthy in the sand pit when we were joined by two boys about 10 years old. We chatted about Canada and played a bit together and then Mother came along. She proceeded to get upset at her son for getting sandy at which point I totally and rudely interrupted but smiled sweetly throughout so she couldn't really tell me to shut up. I told her we had been talking about Canada and she HAD to smile and be polite and feign interest. Then she said to her son, "Oh come on, on my birthday too of all days, why can't you just be good?" at which point I butted in again (sweetly smiling) and insisted we all sing her Happy Birthday in English. Oh she was gritting her teeth through her fake-as-hell grin and it was wonderful to put her through the torture of having to wait there and listen to us. Stupid cow.

I am seriously considering making posters to the effect of "Adults - please keep an eye on your children and intervene if necesssary. Forget your mobile phone - enjoy your kids!" and secretly taping them all over the parks!!!