…or whatever it is that Pooh says.
Since the boyfriend only had school today, we took a special trip down to Arsenal Park. Well, I make it sound simpler than it really was. The baby and our did our usual morning routine, the only deviation being his sudden interest in this dinky little tricycle that's been sitting down in the basement for a year. We rode around on that outside for awhile, until he fell over and hit the back of his head on the brick walkway. Ow. By that time, the boyfriend was home from school and I had excitedly suggested the park trip. The boyfriend, predictably said, “Cool, but let me go check my email first.” An hour later, the baby and I were sitting in the kitchen, he in his stroller, both whining, “Come OOONNNNN! Let's GOOOOOOO!” There was a very practical reason for me wanting to get going. A lot of times, if the baby doesn't go down for a nap by a certain point in the afternoon, all hope of a nap is lost for the day. That can really suck. I wanted to go and get back so that he wouldn't miss naptime. Whatever. Boyfriend got all pissy at me for dragging him away from his very important email and then snapped at me again when I asked him what time we were going over to his mother's house. the fuck?
Anyway, we walked over to the park but the baby was being weird. He didn't really want to go down the slide or anything, and was crying pretty hard for no apparent reason. This, of course, was all my fault. At least, that was the boyfriend's theory. My mere presence turns any situation into a No-Fun Zone as I suck all of the enjoyment out of life…or something. I think that it had something to do with the ladybug infestation. I personally removed about a dozen ladybugs from the slide. Anyway, I was banished over to the other side of the park and I really didn't mind all that much. Dad and son got some quality time in, which is something that they've been lacking. I played hopscotch and talked with some kids who were on recess from the adjoining K-8 school. A couple of moms and their little ones filtered in while they waited for their older kids to be dismissed from school. My neighborhood, while it is certainly in the process of being gentrified by yuppies, still has some rather sad characters drifting about. Case in point, the mother who came with her two kids and was missing nearly all of her teeth. The teeth that she did have were rotting to the point where I could practically see through them. It was disturbing. She couldn't have been much older than me. Her kids were fairly well-behaved, although her older son, who was about 6, was none too pleased with my son's habit of following him around just to see what he was doing. At one point he told me, “Tell your son to quit chasing me.” I gave him a dirty look but said, “He's not chasing you, he's just impressed since you're so big and can do so many cool things.” Little shit. Later on, the older kid and his friend bumped into the baby, pointed at him, yelled “Ew!” and then ran away. I couldn't help but laugh. I told my kid, “You'd better just get used to that, buddy. Both your dad and I got a lot of that when we were little. I don't think there's much hope for you not being weird. Besides, they're lemmings.” Hell, we still get the adult version of that now. No matter. We rule. Even if the boyfriend's a total punk to me sometimes.
I poked around the playground a little bit more and found some interesting things. A Donald Duck charm, a spike from some piece of punk paraphernalia, some broken glass, and this gem of graffiti “Truth or Dare: Guys cum daily (truth) Let him cum in your mouth (dare).” That's nice. Hey, at least it was spelled correctly. Maybe the public school system isn't as bad as it seems.
Then I watched the kids from the school go back inside once their gym class was over. They have to get patted down and have their backpacks searched by security guards before reentering leaving the field. Weird.
When I returned to the boyfriend and the baby, I noticed that the boyfriend, especially when he gets into a parent-concentrated area, turns into one of Them. Those weird parents. It's not real bad, but he looks at the other kids that are slightly older than our baby and worries that ours is somehow lagging behind. Today he was worried because this 2 and 1/2 year old little boy could speak in complete sentences. I told him to quit being silly. Our kid kinda says sentences and besides, by the time he's 2 and 1/2 I don't even want to think about all of the things that he'll be able to say. The only area where our kid is behind is weight. Other than that he's right on time. And anyway, who cares? I don't know.
At some point today I let a humongous horsefly in here. Ass.