“Boy, toddlers can be rough, can't they?"

This morning, I realize that the fall at the beach a few posts ago wasn’t shaken off as easily as I had thought. She was eating breakfast and was chatting with B. Then, when B asked if D wanted to go to the lake, she said, “Boom. I go boom in water. Boom, I go boom in water.” PTSD? Hmmm.

A few minutes later, we head to a park that is a few miles away, and sometimes hard to get to for the directionally challenged (like me). But it’s a great park with swings, slides, a huge play area with bridges and ladders, and, for some reason, a dance pad.

 We were the only ones there, which is odd since it was already 9:30. The only ones, that is, until a another little girl and her mom show up. The first thing the little girl goes to is the dance pad--obviously she’s been here before. She starts pressing the buttons and lights start flashing and an incessant beat plays--sort of like the wordless dance music we used to hear in the early 2000’s at the Funky Buddha. Whatever.

When D hears the music she turns around, claims, “My park. My park,” and makes a beeline for the little girl and shoves her as hard as she can. The little girl’s face hits one of the dance pads. Ouch! Fortunately, there wasn’t any blood. And fortunately the girl’s mother didn’t notice until she heard my loud voice asking if the little girl was OK. I explained what happened, and the mom brushed it off with, “Boy, toddlers can be rough, can’t they?” So happy I got an understanding person and not a freak!

We checked the girl over--no bruises, just a few light scratches--and I took D by the arm and marched her to the girl and told her to apologize. She did, gave her a hug. I’m sure my face was red as we headed back to the car.