Saturday, April 16, 2005

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike.

Toby and I had some big fun today, that's fer shure. We started with some swinging at the train depot park, then went for French fries. Went home for an hour or so, then I pulled Toby's bike out of the garage.

He got on the bike, and we went to the neighborhood park. He decided he wanted to ride instead of swing, so we went down the path alongside a stormwater retention pond, then back around to the swimming pool across the street from the park. Toby wanted into that pool, and he didn't care what he had to do to get what he wanted. The pool doesn't open for another month. Anyway, he kept saying "door! key!" and placing my hand on the latch and padlock. Then he figured out how to climb over the gate, which meant I had to be extra vigilant to prevent that from happening. We went around and around with this for half an hour or so. No violence, just a battle of wills. Finally, I picked him up in one hand, grabbed the bike with the other, and walked down the path next to another retention pond.

Toby got back on his bike after he calmed down, then--wouldn't you know it--there was a family having a pool party in their back yard. Toby made for the yard, and the homeowner invited us in. People in my neighborhood can be very nice like that, which is one of the reasons I don't mind living 44 miles from work. I took Toby's shirt and shoes, and he and the birthday boy had fun splashing me and each other for about 45 minutes or so. I came back home with a drenched Toby on his bike and a beer in my hand.

Then we were off to a different park that has better swings. Toby and I were doing our loud, rowdy routine, in which I pretend to be a monster while I swing the hell out of him. A sweet-looking little boy got onto the swing next to us, with his mother pushing. She had a sour, I'd-rather-not-be-here expression on her face. I pointed at a third child and told Toby that Adam swings like that kid. The kid on the swing next to us started talking to me. I could see that he wanted my attention, so I talked to him a little while Toby was in between pushes. The kid told me that his name is Tyler, that Adam is his cousin, and that his cousins always beat him up. One time, his cousin Andrew beat up his cousin Adam, so Tyler hit him with his belt. Tyler's mom's expression hadn't changed a bit. Yikes. And I thought things got crazy in my household. Toby wanted to leave at that point, so we did PetSmart (dogs), Circuit City (a vestibule surrounded by automatic doors for Toby to play with), and Target (toys) on the way home. He picked up his shoes a few minutes ago, so I suppose we'll be off to somewhere else very soon.

3 comments:

Miranda said...

Great post, Randy! I totally felt like I was there with you and Toby. Actually, I tell my kids about your kids and since they don't have cousins they practically substitute your kids for that role.

Sometimes I take the kids to the park while I attempt to keep up with my homework. My kids tend to make friends with everyone there althought I'm sure the sand pit mommies get their knickers all twisted because I let Brandon play there without sitting in the pit guiding his every move. I do check on him regularily. When we have about 20 minutes left, I take Brandon to the swings. He wants to be pushed for hours, so I always make it last. Sheer bliss. Last week when we went I ran into this sad little girl who really wanted to swing. Normally I just pick them up and help them on the swing but this little girl's daddy is a wife beater and mommy is a alcoholic psycho, so I thought about it for a mintute first. Then I just said, fuck it. Who cares? I'm helping the girl, screw her parents. I can take the mom on if need be. They don't know where I live.

Ann said...

Chiming in here, excellent post. You are the hardest playing dad on the planet. By the way, I LOVE the new blog name; interesting that the whole dumpster moniker has been, apparently, completely abandoned.

Randy said...

Yes, Dumpster has been consigned to the dumpster. Those who google for commercial waste management systems will be happy about that. I suppose I got tired of that alter-ego, which leaves me in search of an Internet persona who lets me explore the shadowy recesses of my mind, heart, and soul without fear of exposure. Heaven forbid I revert to being CheeseDoodle again.