I almost forgot there was a reason we don’t go to the park. He was the worst little boy EVER! He was playing so nicely, and he played for about an hour, which is plenty long enough, I think.
Then it was lunch time – past lunch time actually – and I was hungry and he must have been starving. I even warned him ahead of time, “We’re going home soon to have lunch…”
And then when it’s time to get in his stroller, he explodes! Horrible, back-arching, stiff as a board, whipping his cup of juice across the playground, murderous screaming tantrum as I try to get him in his stroller (and he’s stronger than me, I swear!). The little girl he was playing with just sat there quietly, contently in her stroller, drank her cup of juice, and watched him freak out. And the mom says, “Oh, I guess he likes the park.”
Yeah, I freaking guess so!
He’s not going to the park EVER again! Not until he’s twelve! And if he ever wants to ask why, I’m going to make him read this post!