Playah’s Gonna Play
May 26, 2015
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One of the benefits of living among reasonably affluent suburbs is the vast selection of playgrounds open to the public. I am not one for outdoors; I don’t care for insects and I dream of the day my skin can linger in sunlight for more than five minutes before displaying a rash and furiously red sunburn. Consequently, my son has spent little time outside his first year of external existence. My husband, on the other hand, spoke little else than taking the family to one of our local playgrounds.
Once we arrived to the closest one to our house, it was quite evident Little Man did not share my husband’s enthusiasm. As a committed lover of swings like his Mommy, even that did not bring a smile to his usually effulgent face. Overwhelmed with the sights and sounds of his new environment, he chose to sit in quiet contemplation regardless of the attraction we presented before him.
The second day proved to hold with it some improvement to his playground disposition. Much to my husband’s delight, Mr. Man enjoyed his time in the sandbox. Originally, I feared my son frolicking within a haven for animal poop and whatever culture found in these beacons of disease and general nastiness. But, after sitting back and watching my husband playing with our son from a small distance, how could I deny them their moment?
Perhaps my child’s take away from his adventure among purposeful dirt was the little girl with a surplus of fluids on her face or the other child repeatedly passing a plastic starfish between his Mommy and Daddy. Maybe he just appreciated having something new to jam in his mouth indiscriminately. With certainty I know what I took away, and I could have watched them for endless hours. My husband’s face beaming with love for his son as they shared small movements and looks. Our toddler feeling at ease because Daddy was enjoying himself so, and maybe this place with all the crazy structures isn’t so bad when he is able to sit in the shade and dig. I can’t say that I have a sudden passionate inclination toward the sandbox, but the memories definitely push me toward respectful appreciation.