As someone who didn’t grow up dreaming of becoming a mother, here’s a recent situation I’d never imagined starring in: sitting at the top of a three-story, enclosed swirly slide, I watch a 6 or 7 year old boy go down on his stomach, backwards, while gripping onto the slide, disappearing from view in small increments.
Here’s the echoing conversation that ensues between us: “I’m still in here!” he says.
ME: “My daughter’s waiting for her turn to go, please.”
BOY: “OK, I’ll go down this time. But don’t come back.”
ME: “That’s not very nice. And my daughter has as much right to ride the slide as you do.”
Then Lily and I rode down to, at the end, see this boy’s face hanging upside down above us, as if trying to intimidate us. Nice. Continue reading