Today I took the kids to a local splash park.  You know, one of those places with streams of water shooting up from the concrete.  Water rushing over a large mushroom.  Come to think of it, it really is not a good design.  Excited kids + bare feet + water+ concrete = cracked skulls.  In the hour and a half we were there I witnessed 3 kids slip and hit their head on the concrete.  Oh my goodness, why did I put my kids in that environment?  I may as well have given them scissors and sent them on a 5K run.  We somehow managed to evade the inevitable-this time.   

We met three other moms there who make up our regular play dates.  In total there were 9 kids.  The three other mothers sat on the bench by the park, watching their children play, occasionally steering a child away from the road.  But, in general they could sit, relax, and have conversations.  Something so precious to the stay-at-home-mom.  This one entirely included.  Where was I?  Chasing Jackson.  He found his way on the other side of the bathroom area a couple times.  He liked getting the reaction of the woman by running towards the road.  He climbed on the half-wall surrounding the park and played balance beam.  The stairs seemed to be his catnip and he went to them no less than 5 times.  I know, I know – most of you reading this are probably saying, “Why do you let him get away with it that many times?”  I don’t LET him get away with anything.  The second time behind the bathrooms he got a stern talking to and a spanking.  That was the last time that happened.  The 3rd and final time he got on the wall he receive, you guessed it, a spanking.  I don’t know if by the time he got to the stairs his butt was just numb or what but the spankings didn’t seem to phase him. 

Why is he so difficult?  I looked around me at the park and saw 3 boys within a couple month of exactly the same age as Jackson just playing.  All of them staying in the splash area or around their Moms.  I can’t tell you how many times I said, “Where’s Jackson?”  I would attempt to join in the conversation but inevitably in the split second I am able to say, “We just got back from a 6 day vacation without kids.” he was gone.  I know he’s smart, heck brilliant but he’s also exhausting.  I love him more than life itself but the selfish side of me comes out sometimes and I think to myself, “Why can’t he just be normal?”  Is that bad to say this about your own child?