Oh hey! Are you still here? I thought for sure you’d have given up on me and this blog. Thanks for coming by. You know how crazy this time of year is. Everyone is off getting married, graduating, having baby showers, barbeques, birthday parties, enjoying vacations, and some of us suckers are watching our nephews.
I took Dino-Mike, my 6-year-old nephew to the park a few days ago. He made a couple of quick friends and I headed for the bench swing to read a book. There I was, freshly shaved legs, painted toe nails, cute sandals, my hair was on its best behavior. I was looking good in the neighborhood, if I don’t say so myself.
All of the dads were checking me out behind their sunglasses. You know how you can feel eyes on you? Sometimes when you look over to see if those are in fact eyes you feel, heads turn away as if to quickly lie saying, “What? I wasn’t looking at you.” But you know they were. So because of these guys and their sneaky peeks, I was feeling MILFerific.
As quickly as the head swelling began, out of nowhere, walked this hot mama. All of those eyes that once were on me shifted. You ever see a Meow Mix commercial where all of the cats’ heads turn in synchronicity? That is how those men looked. I could almost hear the sound of the rocks rolling in their heads as they turned. I took a peek too. Her tits sat proudly under her chin. I remembered days gone by when mine sat higher.
Well, it was nice while it lasted. I couldn’t blame the poor bastards for looking at some of that in comparison. Not like I was ready to bat for the other team, but she was cute.
As she chased her little boy around the park giggling, up the slide, over the bridge, through the tires and around the monkey bars, I realized why her body doesn’t look all tired like mine. My boobs would have gone on strike beating me about the head and face if I tried running around like she was.
She stopped to tie the kid’s shoe near me. And I heard magical words. As it turned out, she wasn’t a hot mama. She was a babysitter. It all makes sense now.
While all of that was taking place, Mango Joe got out of his minivan. Why is there always a person among a crowd who feels the need to speak as loudly as possible? From the parking lot, I heard him say to his 4-year-old son, “I’m going to indulge in a mango!”
Wow, lucky you!
He kept talking and the little boy kept walking quickly away from him. “Son, have you ever seen a mango peal? It is vibrant in color, very nice. Here son, take a look.”
The kid didn’t look back at his mango loving father, who incidentally kept talking loudly. He talked about everything that meant nothing, including the construction and history of our park. Why in the world would a 4-year-old give a shit? He wouldn’t. He kept walking away from his chatterbox father. This little boy had amazing powers which he’d obviously learned over his four years. He was able to tune him out, which was something I could not do. Maybe that’s why the guy annoyed me so much. He had a booming voice like a sports announcer. “There goes Timmy racing toward the slide!”
I sat there on the swing hoping to get wrapped up in my book and found myself rereading sentences over and over.
My nephew who was playing happily, also seemed to have trouble tuning out Mango Joe. He was running after one of his newfound friends, when he looked back at the man with the loud mouth, and he ran smack-dab into a metal pole, head first. Dino-Mike’s head made the sound of a bat snapping at the ballpark. This can’t be good.
As I ran toward him, Mango Joe blurts out, “A child is hurt! Someone’s child just hit a pole head first! He is on the ground! Who’s child is this hurt on the ground?”
As I ran past the loud-mouthed moron, I fake sneezed a nice “shut the fuck up,” which a couple other parents picked up on. I heard them laugh.
I scooped the broken child off of the ground, realizing Mango Joe was still yammering. I was finally able to tune the son-of-a-bitch out as I saw a big goose egg swell on my nephew’s forehead.
Fun at the park is over when the kid has streaks of clean tear marks down their dirty face. Add a shiner and a major bump, and you know it was a fun day at the park! Plus we were no longer looking good in the neighborhood with tit chin over there. Definitely feeling the winds of change, time to go home.
I brought the boy back home, cleaned him up and iced his head and eye. Then I iced my shattered ego. All in all, it was a great day!