We go to the playground a lot these days. A lot. Along with the emergence of Alden’s vocabulary has been a heightened ability to articulate her desires. And what she desires most afternoons is going to the playground. And because I am a generally tractable father, I usually take her.
Although she delights in many of the playground’s offerings (slides, climbing structures, colorful plastic dogs on springs), we always start with the swings. As soon as we get out of the car, she points toward them with glee, screaming, “Swings! Swings! Swings! (just in case I have forgotten what they are called, I guess).
The girl loves to swing.
Usually, while Alden swings, Kato lounges comfortably in his car seat. But lately Alden has insisted that he swing too. Apparently she cannot bear to have all the fun for herself.
And so Kato swings, too.
They swing together.
I can think of worse ways to pass the afternoon.
I love swings, but whenever I go to the park they’re all taken by kids. And then small strangers insist that I push them and I’m all “I’m not mean, but your supervision might not like that.” Having your own kids is a good cover; they can distract onlookers while you play on all the good stuff, and then if you get caught you can just point to your kid and no more explanation is needed.