Perhaps it was too soon in my recovery from abdominal surgery to pull Chunky to the park in a wagon.
Or perhaps it was his polite way of asking with his giant grey brown eyes.
Nah, I’m screwing with you.
The 43 pound dictator said, “If you’re not doing anything constructive other than whining about how much your stomach hurts then you’re taking me to the park.”
Yes, it was something like that.
And since my Mommy guilt has been swallowing me in entire gulps like this kid eats a cupcake:
I felt that we needed one good day to bond and talk about things like:
“Why did Daddy put cow poop in the flowers? Can I put my poop in the flowers?”
You know, answering life’s burning questions.
Before we left I prayed to the Gods that my leggings wouldn’t creep up my thigh and gift my vagina with a camel toe.
Nothing says “Hey, I’m the Mom at 34925 Whatever Street. Can my kid play with your kid? No? Are you sure? He has all his shots.” like a hungry vagina eating spandex.
Anyways, there I was, walking down the street with Chunky in tow. By the third house I could feel the tension in my abdominal incisions and I started to question my trust in a few strips of tape holding in my guts.
I also thought about naps and beer and that I left my bedroom door open and my asshole dog was probably drooling on my pillows.
In case you wanted to know.
By the time we reached the park I was sweating worse than Shawn when he finds out that there is no more beer in the fridge…
…on a holiday.
Chunky spotted the giant plastic slide of shock hazard and took off running while shouting, “Yea! The dirty park!!”
No one goes to the Dirty Park.
The equipment is rickety.
The paint on the bars have been worn down to the metal by years of calloused small hands swinging in delight.
Graffiti lines the slide.
Old trees that were probably planted by your grandmother overhang the park; blessing the land with dead tree branches that kids run with…
…sharp ends pointed directly at the eyeballs…
…for safety reasons.
But Chunky doesn’t give a shit.
He loves it there.
And I do too.
I had expected it to be him and I but there was a hippie there knitting a blanket that could cover Nicki Manaj’s ass 3 times.
Oh and her 2 kids that wanted nothing to do with Chunky.
But Chunky was determined.
He chased them when they ran away and he tried so hard to strike up a conversation, but you know how some kids are.
Finally their Mom piped up and shouted for them to play with Chunky.
Neil came over first with a stick and handed it to Chunky as a peace offering. When Chunky took the stick, he accidentally jabbed himself in the penis.
“Oh my junk! My nuggets Mama!” he shouted loudly.
When he saw Neil’s eyes widen he carried on to say, “My Mom pinched my wiener today. She jacked me up.”
And to my defense, I accidentally zipped his pants over his…ummm…junk.
The Hippie Mom cleared her throat and yelled for her kids to return to their safety zone where words like wieners and nuggets aren’t used…
…and probably not consumed because they’re vegetarians…
….ok that was mean of me to judge.
…but she had a bag of carrots and fruit.
I shouted “I’m sorry. I accidentally…”
And she never looked up.
I checked my vagina which was still smoothed out in my leggings grabbed the wagon and left in embarrassment.
“We don’t talk about our private parts Chunky to other people,” I explained while I was pulling the cart as fast as my frail body could pull him.
And you know what the 43 pound dictator said?
“That was the funnest ever. We do it again tomorrow.”
And he’s right, like a sucker, we probably will.
Prompt: A time your child embarrassed you