Playground Survival & Dinosaur Patchin’
October 15, 2012
Meanwhile, back in Toddlerland…
A hairbrush and a contact case took a swimsy in the toilet.
Dirt was consumed from the bottom of shoes.
Fall decor was enhanced.
I’ve been excited for B to walk so we could do outdoor activities. It gets a little cabin feverish up in here.
Now that he’s been walking for 3ish months, he’s getting around pretty well and loves to climb, so recently it was time to introduce the playground.
Yay! Wahoo!! So fun!!!
Oh, except no one informed me that playgrounds were death traps that teach survival of the fittest from an early age, so our first 3 attempts were less than desirable.
Playground experience #1: Within two minutes of walking onto the playground, I hear a 5 year old kid tell another 5 year old kid, “Hey there’s a baby! Let’s go punch him in the face!”
Playground experience #2: A elementary-school girl grabs Beckett by the shoulders and says, “Let’s kiss!!” as she leans in towards his lips. She obviously never watched Hitch because there was no 90/10 happening there. She went 100% of the way.
Playground experience #3: We learn our lesson and go to the “tiny tots” playground, but older kids are playing on it. One of the older kids uses Beckett’s head as a leverage to climb up the wall then watches with delight as Beckett falls down and cries.
I mean, I’m not trying to be a helicopter parent here; I’m all about his (and my) independence. I’m just trying to keep the child alive and STD-free. Playgrounds are dangerous, y’all.
Punkin Patchin, Dino Style
Last year, the Morris and Brooks families went to a pumpkin patch with our little boys. Little little boys. As Taylor put it, Beckett was still in the “dead fish” stage of life. He was only 2 months old…sweet little personality-less bundle that we dressed in costume as frequently as possible.
This year was a blast. The boys are now little terrors, running around inspecting/tasting everyone and everything.
Most importantly, they were dressed as teensy tiny dinosaurs.
People disagree about what heaven will be like, but I can tell you: it’s made of little boys in giant dinosaur tails. And probably also Pumpkin Spice Latte machines and endless rocky road cake balls for refreshments and the Ray LaMontagne Pandora station on constant repeat in the background, but that’s neither here nor there.
Looking back at pictures from Saturday…should I have called the authorities about the man who photobombed our family portrait? If that isn’t suspicious, I don’t know what is.