10 Minute Writer

I am going to blog about what happened to me at the playground today for three reasons. First, my poor husband will be grateful that you, my patient readers, will soften the blow when I recount the story to him. Secondly, I have removed myself from the distractions that are Facebook and Twitter, and if I vent here, then I can have the satisfaction of a worthy audience. And thirdly, which is probably the most important, writing will make me calm down.

I took my five children to a local playground today. It was not our regular haunt, but it is a very nice one, with a fenced in area around the climbing apparatus. I like my kids to be fenced in. They can pretty much do as they please, within the boundaries of the play area.

After playing for about 20 minutes, my five kids were having a nice time playing a rousing game of tag. Tag is much more fun when you have stuff to climb and run around. My friend, Lauren, and her 3 kids joined us and her three joined in the tag game. I was chatting with Lauren and I didn’t see what was happening in the play area.

When I looked up, I saw an older, white haired woman scolding my older two girls. ( Who are 10 & 11). My thought on strangers talking to my children is this: I don’t mind you being friendly, but if you are correcting them, you better have a valid reason. The girls had confused looks on their faces. I asked the woman exactly what it was that they did that was wrong.

She told me. They were running.

I really was baffled. This is a public playground.

Her argument was that there were a lot of little kids in this playground and the big kids needed to play, NOT RUN, so that they would not be in any danger.

I asked her, what little kids? The majority of them in this playground were mine.

She said, ALL OF THEM.

Huh?

Then she pointed out my son and said that he almost ran into a pole because he was running. This isn’t safe, she said, and if he wanted to run he should stay in his own backyard.

Keep in mind no one was hurt.

I asked her again, which specific children she was the most concerned about, thinking that she would probably point out another one of my kids, who had already had half a dozen boo-boos and were none the worse for wear. And again, she said, “ALL OF THEM”.

This made no sense to me. She would not identify with any specific child. She would not clarify what specific offense my children were committing, she just wanted the running and playing and having fun to stop now. Because someone would get hurt.

I don’t remember what I said then. I think it was somewhere on the lines of the fact that “THIS IS A PUBLIC SPACE! WE CAME HERE TO RUN! YOUR REQUESTS ARE COMPLETELY UNREASONABLE!”

She did not see it this way. She said something like public spaces should be safe (which, by the way, no one at this point is hurt or injured) and we should go outside of the fenced in area if we wanted to run so the little kids would be safer.

At this point, my blood pressure was through the roof. I yelled at all my kids and said, “We are going to the little kid playground (across the park) where we will be allowed to run and play and have fun.” Of course, one of my kids started crying. I said (which probably wasn’t the nicest thing in the world to say) “Look what you did! You made my kids upset. Thanks a lot.”

Then I took my brood and went to another part of the park. I was furious to see that this crazy lady had moved her grandchild to the swings and wasn’t even in the part we left. My friend Lauren approached her and asked her how old her granddaughter was. She said, “3 1/2″

Lauren pointed out that the apparatus we were originally playing on was designed for kids ages 5-12. The sign said so. Her kid shouldn’t have been there in the first place. The crazy lady did say, to her credit, “Point well taken.”

Now I could have gone back to the original play space. But truthfully, I was very afraid of what I would have said, in front of my children, to this micromanaging busybody. I would probably not have made my point clear, I probably would have just resorted to name-calling. (Hateful ol’ bitty.)

So I enjoyed the afternoon with my kids, who wound up having a nice time anyway. I feel sorry for that 3 1/2 year old. If her grandmother does this to everyone, she’s going to have neither friends nor fun.

Then I drove home, thinking about all of the things I wish I would have said.

Then I got mad because my husband (who was working at home today) didn’t meet me at the door to hear me recount the tale of this terrible injustice.

Then I decided that writing it all out would do me wonders.

I hope you found it entertaining.

Whew! I feel a lot better.