Mar 10, 2010

There's just no winning...

The weather in New York City has been glorious and the entire island is experiencing a collective good mood. With warmer temperatures new baby bumps are revealed, children can go hatless, and blueberries become cheaper at Whole Foods.

The past month has brought 3 huge snowstorms that kept most of us cooped up in our 700 square foot apartments with little ones who were bored blind. They rebelled against us for reasons we understood but could do absolutely nothing about. Basically, this was the winter we all considered drugs.

But just like Sandra Bullock winning an Oscar, out came the 60 degree weather and surprised us all.

At 1:59 pm Oliver woke from his nap and I ran into his room with a smile from ear to ear. After the world's quickest diaper change I grabbed his stroller, jacket, and snack and we were out the door. 10 minutes has got to be a record. We were headed to the playground.

The problem was everyone else had the same idea.

Our most favorite playground, Washington Market, was so crowded Oliver would have gotten stomped alive. So we continued to Battery Park which is no less lovely, just an extra 15 minute walk.

This was crowded too. Hmmm...I started to think. This could get dicey. I let Oliver loose and memories of summertime flooded back.

Within one minute Oliver was into the sandpit.  I was pleased that he was raking his hands through the sand. He was clearly over gulping it down by the fistful phase.  That's what I call progress. However with progress comes struggle. Apparently we are now into the throwing sand phase. Shit.

After removing Oliver from the sandpit came the fountain. Since starting pre-pre-school Oliver has had a major obsession with water. They taught him how to wash his hands and if he could he would wash them all day long. Now, not only was he covered head to toe in sand, we were both all wet too.

And, finally, the swings. It has been months since we hit the swings, Oliver's clear and favorite playground activity.  The problem here wasn't the actual swinging, it was the actual waiting. Waiting on line is torturous for a 17 month old even if they're the first and only one in it. It was verging on embarrassing how he was unraveling.  The mother whose baby was in the swing took pity on us and took her baby out much too early to ease Oliver's obvious physical pain.

So. the good news is we're back to the playground.  The bad news?  We're back to the playground.

I guess every season has it's perks...

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