playground

Friday, April 28, 2006

playground Current mood: exhausted Mulch in your sandals. Shouts and squeals, laughter and pounding feet. Music from the festival over in the next field. Kids calling to each other as they chase and climb, their hair standing on end from the static as they zip down the plastic slides. The swings creak in rhythm. I try to follow much-needed adult conversation while still keeping an eye on my wanderer. Fearless littleman, he follows no piper. Luckily the older girls are playing babysitter, and doing a fine job. I can briefly turn divided attention toward my smaller charge, who would love to eat some of this fascinating mulch. But ouch! He is cutting teeth. I'm glad wisdom teeth don't hurt as much as baby teeth seem to! A breeze ruffles my skirt, the sun patterns shift under the trees. Here come small tennis shoes, it still awes me some to see him run. This creature of our making, this independent little man. Just a brief stop and then shedding cheerios, they whirl away again.