Nonnie = Playground

My mother, Nonnie, is visiting, so we're going for more walks and hitting up the playground more often.  Five years ago, I fully expected to spend EVERY DAY at the playground with my kids because I would finally have an excuse to swing and go down some awesome slides and someday they'll grow out of it.

Yeah, that doesn't happen.  Toddlers are armed with energy zappers that can seek out anything you have left after a full day of work and just suck you dry.  This is how kids stay charged, you see.  Plus, when I went to the playground, I realized that A, there are never swings because there are always some jerk 5th Graders showing each other how to throw them over the top or crinkle up the chains and B, the slides got a lot smaller and less daunting than they were in the golden age of slides (which, as I recall, was about 1984-1992 or so).  My kids think they're cool and if they slide down, I act like it's an accomplishment, but when I was three, I swear I was on a MUCH bigger slide than this thing that's only like 2 feet above my head.

Anyway, because of my mom and Aaron's mom, I know that one day I will get back into playground mode.  As a matter of fact, I will see it as an awesome vacation to go to the playground every day for two weeks.  Then I will go back to my house and sleep for a whole weekend with nothing but a mildly eccentric husband and somewhat arthritic dog to worry about, content in the knowledge that now my children's children expect candy for breakfast and ice cream for every snack.  Ah... bliss...

Now, playgrounds have also come a long way since I was little, and I know this.  If I wasn't at the mercy of the energy zapper, I might revel in this fact every day.  The slides are thick plastic so you don't get that Gordon Ramsey sear on your heiny every time you slide down.  Plus, every metal thing is coated in a thick coat of paint so you can actually touch it in the sun light which means you don't grill your hand and fall off the monkey bars as you clutch your wrist and howl in pain, falling to the ground and then running from a rogue blacksmith who mistakes your palm for his heated iron.  That also reduces the risk of kids daring each other to lick the fireman's pole in the winter.

I haven't even gotten to perhaps the most unjust part of being born too early for the playground revolution: the SPRAYGROUND!  Seriously, some genius realized that you can turn some concrete into a series of fountains and that EVERYONE WOULD LOVE IT and then that genius made it happen.  I heard we had one near us in the winter, but when I went out, it looked like some concrete and a few bright metal poles.

Oh no, my friend.  That thing was Pure. Freaking.  Awesomeness.  Fountains all over the ground, water shooting out of the poles, ALL AFTERNOON LONG!  I'm totally obsessed.  And my mom's been there twice in three days!

I haven't.  I went there once.  A month ago with a friend who is new in town and found the same sprayground.  Then I came home and napped longer than my kids.  When I woke up, they had all my energy and I couldn't even THINK about going back to a playground.  We went to a regular playground this morning with Nonnie and while I think I'm going to need to sleep this off, my mom is getting everything ready to hit up the at least one more before the day is through.