My youngest daughter and I were at a playground recently when I noticed two Dads Engrossed in Deep Conversation. One had a diaper bag over his shoulders; both had feet shoulder-length apart, arms crossing and uncrossing. They were discussing the depreciation of home values -- at least the part of their conversation I could hear when I wasn't shadowing my daughter up and down a slide.
As they continued talking, I wondered where their kids were. So, apparently, did one of their wives, who walked up to them, mildly annoyed.
"Do you know where our daughter is?" she asked.
The dad mumbled something and gestured toward the playground set as his wife walked away. He and his friend directed their attention toward the jungle gym, at least for a few minutes, before resuming their conversation.
I've spent thousands of hours on playgrounds in the last seven years. We've had play dates and family gatherings and just-get-the-kids-outside afternoons. There have been big slides, small slides, swings, tunnel slides, fire poles, jungle gyms and lifting a kid around the waist as they "do" the monkey bars. There have been scrapes and falls and enough snacks to stock a Costco. There also has been great people watching, including some these parents I noticed while with my youngest.
I don't want to pick on children, but I need to call out the Big Kid on Little Kid's Equipment. If the kid is helping a younger sibling or quickly passing through, that's one thing. But an 8-year-old repeatedly going down the baby slide isn't helping anyone.
I'm usually on the playground wearing workout clothes. And while people might stare at my leotard, I need to be ready for action. Which is why I'm always curious about the Overdressed Parents. It can't be comfortable for the dad in skinny jeans and too-tight T-shirt chasing around their kid, or the mom in a sundress and fancy sandals. Not to mention hot.
During my recent outing with my youngest, there was one Overdressed Dad who also was a Dad Clearly Wearing His Wife's Diaper Bag. He just looked uncomfortable, like a turtle on its back. He probably is wondering why he is traveling with so much stuff but also unsure if he'll be able to find anything in all of those pockets.
When I'm going solo, I use a messenger/diaper bag with one main pocket for most things. I guess that makes me a Dad with His Own Diaper Bag. I've had mine since our oldest was born and, while there might be a snack in an inside pocket from the Obama administration and very little else, I do not mess with the delicate ecosystem that is Belle's diaper bag. The key to having your own diaper bag, I've learned, is to make sure there is at least one diaper in it before you leave the house. If I remember to check for wipes, that's a bonus.
A close cousin of the Dad Engrossed in Deep Conversation is the Dad on His Phone. I get you might need to check occasionally on emails and texts ("Did you remember to pack wipes?") but the social media feeds will be there in 20 minutes. Be in the moment with your children because there will be a day when you'll have to drag them to a playground rather than vice versa. The one exception to monitoring your phone is, of course, on a Sunday in the fall as you track your fantasy football teams. Gotta have priorities.
I spend a lot of time observing dads but there also can be a parent dynamic at a playground. My favorite is the First-Time Parents. They come to the playground with a stroller and diaper bag packed for a two-week trip. They form a bubble around their toddler, clapping and shouting words of encouragement that also serve as self-affirmations that they are parenting and able to care for a small human being.
And there are photos. Tons of photos, an album-to-come titled "Junior's First Visit to the Playground!" with roughly 82 photos of the child atop the slide they ultimately refuse to go down. I'm all for documenting new experiences. It's the Parents Shooting a Documentary Film about Their 15 Minutes on the Playground that miss out on said new experiences watching everything through their phone.
But my favorite people of all on the playground are the Mom and Dad Days Away from Having a Second Child. Mom is doing her best to move around the playground; dad oscillates between worrying mom's water is going to break and following their first-born on the jungle gym. They are trying to distract themselves from what is to come by enjoying what is directly in front of them. They are happy their first child is going to be a big sibling but also sad the kid will no longer have their undivided attention.
They are excited, confident they have a handle on raising a child. Maybe they see the dad chasing one kid around the playground while the other is throwing a tantrum because he wants to go on a swing and think, "That will never be our children." (Spoiler alert: There is always a tantrum.) In a way, I'm jealous of their innocence. In another way, I'm glad having three kids makes a morning at the playground with one feel like a walk in the park.
Besides, a growing family means you have to think about the possibility of buying a bigger house. And I've heard homes depreciate from the minute you move in.
