My children dragged me around the playstructure, laughing hysterically at my attempts to communicate. I ran headlong into the stairs repeatedly (the ole "let your toe hit it first and act like you hit your konk" trick) to general delight. I couldn't figure out the slide. Monkey bars were an enigma. The swings were just right out. Da Boyz were thrilled to 'teach me how to play.'
I learned a lot.
I learned that When You Play, you play with abandon. It does not matter that your house isn't closed yet and you miss your husband so much you can't think of him without crying. It does not matter that you are Grown Up and Above Such Things. It doesn't even matter when other kids and moms start showing up.
Have you noticed this? Social etiquette at the playground dictates that moms must stand around, watching concernedly after their children with arms crossed, feet apart. Chit chat is optional. Being dignified is crucial.
Dads are not like this. Dads get down on the ground and PLAY. Dads go down the slide and Monster them, getting grass stains and not caring about it.
(Moms do this too, but not with other moms around. Honestly, what would they THINK?!)
(Answer: probably jealousy.)
So the other day, Little Prince and I went to the park. Just him and me. I decided to let loose and just do whatever he did, without caring about ... anything.
We pirated. We dragoned. We tagged. We swung. We picnicked and aliened and tickled and did it all again.
(I was tired.)
On the way home, we belted out Daniel Powter and Weezer along to the radio (he knew all the words) grinning at each other in the mirror. When we pulled up in the driveway, he scrunched up his freckles and said,
"I love you, Mom."
Dang. Sometimes - just sometimes - I'm really good at this.