Posts Tagged ‘ city parks ’

Do You Speak “2 And A Half Year-Old?”

Saturday, June 1st, 2013

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

Yesterday for our Friday afternoon routine where I take you to the park during my lunch break, I decided to make it extra special and go monster-truckin’ with you.

By that, I mean that we pretended our Craig’s List-purchased jogging stroller was a monster truck as we ransacked our way through the park.

By “ransacked,” I mean that we made screeching tires noises as I popped wheelies, rushed you down hills, and pretended like I was about to crash you into trees.

We stopped in the middle of a bridge over troubled water to look for fish. Being that it had just rained, I knew our chances weren’t that good.

But then you yelled out in excitement, “It’s Dimo! I see Dimo, Daddy!”

I had no idea what you were talking about. All I saw was an orange leaf stuck on a log in the middle of the creek.

When I took you back to school, your teacher Ms. Lauren asked you what you did with Daddy at the park.

You shyly looked down and smiled: “I saw Dimo.”

Ms. Lauren responded the same way I did, thinking you were talking about Barney the Dinosaur, as you typically refer to him as “Dino.”

You corrected us, as well as Mommy, once we got home: “No, Dimo!

During bath time, you talked to Mommy more about seeing Dimo with me at the park.

“I thought it was a fish, but it was just an orange leaf,” you explained.

It wasn’t until this afternoon when Mommy and I took you to Kohl’s to help pick out your cousin Calla’s birthday gifts that we understood.

There was a plush Nemo doll next to some Spiderman action figures.

“Dimo! I found him!”

And that’s when the light bulb went off. “Dimo” is Nemo. You found Nemo.

More importantly, you thought you saw him with me yesterday.

That’s why you were so excited with me at the park- you thought you saw Nemo in the water.

I’m learning to speak your language… the language of “2 and a half-year old.”





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Stereotype: Boys Like Playing With Sticks And Mud

Wednesday, May 29th, 2013

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

You should know: There’s this stereotype that little boys like playing with sticks and playing in the mud.

As if you really are so magnetically drawn to finding ways to get dirty and make messes; whether indoors or outdoors…

As if every time I take you to the park during my lunch break, you bypass the actual playground so you can collect sticks to throw them into the water and “make soup…”

As if you were predestined, and even hard-wired in your DNA as a little boy, to be so predictable like that…

Oh, snap.

Actually, all those things are true about you.

In fact, you sort of slipped on that rock and fell in the water; getting your whole left foot wet.

That’ll be our little secret. I cleaned you up good enough that no one seemed to notice by the time I took you back to school.

I also won’t mention the part about (or show the pictures of) you running from one end of the park to the other with your stick raised in the air like it was helping you fly.

After all, you had your cool skull-and-crossbones sunglasses on. Or, as I considered them in that moment, your “safety goggles.”

It’s funny to me that during our Friday afternoon tradition of going to the park, you never really look happy: You look pretty serious most of the time we’re there.

But I know the value of “serious” Daddy/son play time. You and I need regular time together in which words are not necessary; just primitive caveman stuff.

Yes, technically, you’re playing; but specifically, you exploring and experimenting with nature.

I guess your theory is this: If the good Lord intended for us to play with toys, He wouldn’t have given us sticks and mud.









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