The flowers are popping and the days are growing warmer, longer.  Everyone emits an essence of giddy hope. Freedom.  Windows fly open and the dust flies up. Awww, Spring is here. Baby bunnies. Baby lambs. Baby anything that has four legs! And the most essential winter relief for all adults who have, or watch, or get roped into kids… hours at the playground!

With three rambunctious boys, my right eye begins to twitch from cabin fever mid January when daylight hours are so short, you are trying to send you kids to bed at 5:30 just because it’s dark! Doesn’t always work.

Last week, Spring Break, was our first week in which we hit a playground a day.  I loved it. Not just because the kids are active and their imaginations firing, but I revel in feeling like a kid.  I run, squeal, pretend to be a pirate, and climb the jungle gym equipment trying to be a Ninja Warrior.  It is just plain fun to be reminded that you are not too old for kid tendencies.

This particular day, Wheels and Malcolm, my son in the middle, were chasing each other defending themselves with various Pokemons, while I was making sure Stewie didn’t fall to his death on the designated 5 – 12 year old equipment. We successfully surpassed the stairs and fireman pole from hell, and made our way to the slide.

The one true happiness in Stewie’s world, the slide.

Clapping wildly, he sat down two feet from the slide’s edge and began to scoot his bottom towards the crest, when it happened.

BAM BAM BAM… up the slide came that kid. That kid we all know. That one, who sneers and brings you back to being alone on the playground and bullied.  That one who, even though you are an accomplished adult, instantly makes you revert to your childhood and pisses you off that you never did anything to stand up for yourself. That one who was just older than you and exerted their dominance by holding cool stuff hostage.

That one, who brings out the worst, in adult you.

As that kid reached the top of the slide grabbing the poles either side, they stared into Stewie’s eyes and grimaced, “You are never coming down this slide,” glancing up at me, “Nope.”

Blindsided and quite taken aback, I carefully raised my right foot, placed it in the middle of that kid’s furrowed forehead, and gently nudged them back down the speedy silver chute impersonating evil Santa, “You’ll shoot your eye out kid! Ho HO HO!” as they slid helplessly, shocked, whimpering.

Sinister chuckling ensued. It felt gooood.

I grabbed Stewie’s hand to bring him closer to the slide, looked up, and that kid was still there, sneering and defiant as ever.   The trouble with a vivid imagination and not so wicked heart is you don’t act upon your musings.

Leaning down making firm, committed eye contact with that kid, I whispered as forcefully and controlled as possible, “Oh I think he is. Right now.” Immediately, the child slid away, relinquishing the fun from its cold grasp and I kindly expressed thanks.

Awww, the joys of spring! Fresh air.  Exercise. Baby animals. AND, the incredible return to kid-dom and playground etiquette.