The walk to the Park

The afternoon naps for the day lasted far to long, so even though it is close to bedtime we leave the sleeping baby with Daddy, and the girls and I head out to the park down the street to burn some energy. Bundled up against the cold, Ms. Action insists on pushing Ms. Drama in the umbrella stroller. It’s slow going. I keep asking her if she needs me to push the stroller now, but her reply is always the same, “no, I do it”.

Ms. Drama leans back in her seat and takes in the view, talking in a constant stream “Da sky is boooo, da bird is up high, da car! da car!”

We get to the park and fore go the swings to “run run” and “hurry hurry” up the hill and back down. And then the girls decide that it is more fun to walk than play on the slide, so Ms. Drama piles back into the stroller like the entitled little thing she is and Ms. Action starts down the sidewalk. I watch her push the stroller, boots trudging along. Whenever she hits a bump in the sidewalk she stops pushing, walks around the stroller, grabs the front of the stroller and hauls it over the uneven spot.

A small energetic dog passes with his owner. The girls erupt in squeals of delight and practice barking like a dog. After he passes Ms. Action tells me, “Now you say ‘that’s a fendly dog’ ” I ask her if that’s what Daddy says when he takes them for walks. She confirms this.

The next conversation revolves around how all the puddles are cold and yucky, which causes Ms. Drama to shout “yuck!” over and over for about 2 blocks.

We pass a orange and white house with a manicured lawn and Ms Action assures me that it is a “fendly house” when I ask her why the house is friendly she replied “just cause I like it, I like that house.”

Two blocks later she is convinced that the green and white house with a yard full of pine trees is “no a fendly house”. When pressed for more information on why the house is not friendly, she can only explain “cause it’s skwabbly”. Since I have no idea what that means, we continue on.

I point out the crab apple tree with last years shriveled apples still clinging to the branches, and she informs me that they are not apples, they are berries, and I am unable to convince her otherwise.

The stroller is slowing down so I ask if she needs to push the stroller now, but Ms. Action reassures me that she can do it. We pass a house with a large beagle looking out the front window, and both girls yell hello to the barking dog a few times, and when they discover that their voices echo back to them, they yell hello a few more times.

As we round the corner celebration erupts when we see our house! “It’s our home! It’s our home!” The girls yell. Normally at this point in a walk, the girls like to protest and bring up all the reasons why they aren’t ready to go home. But today there is no fussing, and we wander up our driveway and head into the house for bread and butter and bed.

Finally tired enough to fall asleep.