Lately I’ve been a major star at the playground. It all started earlier this week when I went to the park with Neptune one morning, and there was a day care’s worth of kids already playing there. They were a little older than Neptune, but maybe only by a year. So I was sitting with Neptune at this little mini picnic bench, drawing shapes in handfuls of sand we put on the tabletop, and suddenly there were twevle kids around me, showing off their shoes: “Looka this!” and I respond: “Oooh, Spiderman,” or “Wow, Dora,” or, occasionally, “A bonhomme, cool!” Now there’s a girl that collects stones for me to keep. Everyday I come home with about ten little rocks, a chestnut and a popsicle stick in my pocket. The kids are great, they come over to hang out, want me to watch what they’re doing, or let me know what flavour their sand pie is made of. Often I just have no idea what they are saying at all, but I usually tell them it’s pretty cool, amazing or very, very interesting. And once a kid put a whole pile of sand in my jacket pocket, which was pretty funny because I didn’t expect that at all.
Anyhow, it’s pretty hilarious that I chose today to blog about this, because this morning’s visit to the park was less than spectacular. Basically I was dethroned as Park Idol; perceived simply as “Another Mom.” Neptune had a tumbly day, falling down and crying three times. I could feel the other adults sending judging gazes my way. And on top of that, there was a different bunch of kids there, all of whom could not care less about me. So we walked home, both defeated, and thus rewarding ourselves by eating Creamsicles on the bench outside the school. Happily, I retain my title of “Super Mom” at home, where it matters most.