Like everything most things I get hyper-excited about, it wasn’t as great as I expected. Still, it was a fun diversion and I’m very glad that we went.
The only hiccup was when I almost beat up a seven year old.
First, it should be noted that the child in question was definitely big enough to use the many big-kid swings that littered the playground, unused. There were only two baby swings at the park, and I noticed one was open. As we headed over there, the little punk sprinted toward it and attached himself to the swing like a Greenpeace activist to a sequoia. He then called for his mom for a couple of minutes, asking her to come swing him. No one responded.
So at that point, what do you do? We’re standing by the swing, basically in line to use it, I guess. There’s this whole social order to playgrounds that we don’t yet understand.
Anyway, I finally asked him if Andrew could use the swing while he went to get his mom. He said no.
So then what do you do? I voted for forcible removal, but luckily it didn’t come to that. The nice mom swinging her daughter on the other one offered it up to us since she was tiring of it. I felt like a jerk, but she seemed genuine so we took her up on it.
He enjoyed the swing.
And he ate some grass.
And he continued to be thwarted in his quest to crawl.