Okay, I know my usual sense of humor leaks through in my posts (okay, at least I hope it does... otherwise you might think I'm just wierd...), but I'm going to warn you that I'm feeling a little sappy about this one....

This past Saturday morning, Cade and I had one of those rare excursions where it was just me and him off on a little adventure: to the park, of course! (where else would you take a little monkey?).

It was a brilliant, beautiful morning - 70+ degrees, sunny and breezy (or, according to Cade every so often "too cold, mommy!" "to winny!" - that definitely got the "whatever" glance from Mommy; it was just perfect and I let him know that in no uncertain terms...)

Anyway, to the park we go. And, can you believe it? We were the only ones there!



After recovering from the initial shock that he had the whole place to himself (and mommy was most certainly not going over the "wobberly bridge"), he had a grand time. Running up and down and all over doing a continuous loop (his modus operandi) between the stairs, the "wobberly bridge" and the slide. Over. and over. and over.



It was so sweet to watch him laughing and jabbering and singing to himself as he climbed and ran like a wild man.

And then it hit me.

He doesn't need me. He really doesn't need me anymore. No more hovering at the edge of the landing, ready to catch should he tumble over the edge. No more waiting at the bottom of the slide to help him down. No more hand-holding up the stairs. No more boosts on the bum to get up the climber...

whoa! what happened?

He can't.

No.

He can't be growing up, can he?

Okay, okay. Enough already.

I did enjoy sitting on the bench peacefully by myself, feeling the cool breeze and hearing the echoes of his laughter among the surrounding trees.

And watching the old men playing bocci ball. That was pretty cool.

One of the things I really love about our area is the mix of people. Whenever we go to the park, we are sure to hear at least 2 other languages being spoken by old and young alike. And it's so neat to watch the boys play alongside anyone without a care as to whether they can actually communicate. It's kind of fun to watch them work it out. Laughing together. Taking turns at the slide. Smiling. Well, I guess they do communicate, huh?

Anyway, these old men had out their lawnchairs and their water bottles and were playing bocci ball like it was the Greek Olympics. I'm not sure if they were Greek or Italian; I could plainly tell that they were not speaking English, but couldn't make out what language it was from that far away. So they're throwing the balls, and measuring with their feet and their hands, and yelling at each other constantly, in the way that only good friends can do.

It was great.

Then Cade and I sauntered over to the little "farm" inside the park. All the animals were busily munching away at breakfast, but they would scoot closer to the fence as we came by. Saying "hi" in their sweet little animal ways.

Here's a real sweetie we visited:

And this one was such a stinky little cutie. Kept shoving his nose through the fence. I was a little afraid that Cade would lick him on the nose, 'cause he's had this wierd licking thing lately (comes with being two-and-a-half, I guess), but we made it away safely with no pig juice on the tongue.

Now this old girl really made my morning. As soon as we approached, she stopped grazing, picked up the pace and headed straight toward us.

I was happily snapping away with the camera and saying excitedly to Cade, "Look, buddy, she's going to come right over. Right next to us. Isn't she sweet? Maybe she'll let you pet her on the head! Look, Cade. .... Cade?"

Desperate whine coming from the lower right.

"Aw, Cade!"

He had his head stuck between the slats in the fence.

And I mean stuck. You know how it is - how in the world do they get the noggin' in there, when they clearly do not have enough room to pull it out? He started to panic a little as the pony stuck it's nose right next to his red little cheeks. And, I'll admit, I was a little worried, too. Not so much about the stuck head. I figured we'd squeeze it out eventually, but I do know that ponies have sharp teeth. And what with Cade's (by now louder) half-cries and panicky squeals, I was afraid the pony would startle and give him a kick or a nibble.

Luckily, though, Miss Pony was having none of that raucous, and made her way to graze elsewhere. Meanwhile, I got Cade to sort of slide over to an area where the space looked a little wider, pulled up a little on the rickety fence slat, and he managed to squeeze his little blonde peanut through with only a minor scratch.

That pretty much ended our trip to the farm.

So back to the playground we went.

Man, he's getting so big, isn't he....?