a perfect, if wistful, day at the park

We finally got out of our pyjamas around noon today. Heaven. We packed a picnic lunch and  the KoE’s bug catching paraphanalia, with butterfly net, magnifying glass and binoculars, bug trap and tweezers. The King draped all and sundry around his neck, filled his pocket with equipment, and waved his net down the sidewalk to the park.

We’d have gotten there faster, but that he had to stop and tell every friendly face we passed about his Equipment. There are a lot of friendly faces in our neighborhood.

His first fast friend was Joe, an adorable boy of indeterminate years who Loved. Bugs. The two kids roamed the fenced area of the playground in search of creepy crawlies, and their mission was much more successful after I convinced them to dump the rocks out of their bug cage and just put grass in, instead. The two were thick as theives within minutes of meeting each other. But when Joe had to go home, the Kid just found another round of kids to play with. Two sisters, diametrically opposed in temperment, decided they liked my preccocious kid, and the three ranged far and wide, sharing cookies and lemonade, climbing trees, finding treasures, running free (with an indulgent parent’s eye).

And when those girls had to go, the King of Everything flowed easily into another, wide-ranging pack of little kids who had some great, complicated game weaving its way over and under the jungle gym.

I watched him and marvelled at all the changes that have transformed this beautiful boy. He’s still insecure at the end of the evening, but uses me as his touchstone, recharging his batteries off my constant presence and love. He was generous with his toys, today, and kind to the smaller children. The older kids played with him, and showed him genuine affection. It was a wonder to behold.

Then I watched the other parents, how they interacted with my son and their own children. I watched how the other parents interacted with each other… and tears pricked my eyes. Between my lack of spouse and my lack of time, it struck home hard how alone I am, and how alone it seems I will be. It was a hard thing to realize.