Robodad

The kids on the playground are running and playing. Molly has met some older kids, around 11, and they have condescended to let her play in their game of chase. I am thrilled because she is normally shy and reluctant to ask others to play, and I feel like crying when I see her so happy in the company of others.

Sammy thinks he is playing, too. He mimics their shouting and squealing , and toddles in the same general direction as the older kids. He seems not to notice that he is largely ignored.

Lizzie is playing with some kids on the merry-go-round.

Eventually, Lizzie finishes her play for whatever reason, and comes over to me on the park bench. She scoots her butt up onto the high seat next to me. She adjusts her blue and white Dorothy-in-Wizard-of-Oz dress which she has chosen to wear today.

She looks at me and smiles, then looks to the playground jungle gym where the other kids are playing.

After a moment, she looks back at me. “Daddy, doesn’t it get boring just watching kids play?”

I explain to her simply that I enjoy watching my kids having fun and playing.

She looks back at the playground and seems to think about this for a second. Then she concludes “So it would be really boring for you if there were no one here, right?”

I agree that yes, it would be boring.

Then, we play that game where she pushes my nose and my tongue sticks out, and I push her belly button and she makes a beeping noise. Shoudlers, cheecks, ears, knees; every body part has a resultant action or sound. This game devolves, as it always does, into me tickling her.

Then, she runs off to join her sister and the older kids in the game of chase.

The sun is setting, and a breeze finds its way to us through the trees and over the soccer field.