Absolutely Bananas: Seattle mom blog

Two boys and a girl

My to-do list for this weekend was very, very long. And somehow, I woke up Monday with a list that was no shorter, and maybe even longer. Drat!

See, this is what happens when we get sunshine in Seattle.

Like newly released prisoners, we stumble outside shading our eyes from the brilliant rays, murmuring and whispering and shuffling around. Until finally the shock wears off and we begin leaping and twirling and SHOUTING for joy. And nothing gets done, unless spending the day outside is on your list of things to do. Sadly it isn’t on mine.

So I shrugged off my responsibilities (tomorrow! will get to them tomorrow!) and joined Jay and CJ and some friends at the park to soak in the rays and enjoy a warm Fall Saturday. Ahhh, this is living.

We found an old wooden set of bleachers where the adults lounged and chatted while CJ and his friend used the baseball field to build imaginary fortresses and fend off horrific villains.

We were alone in our little corner of the park. Across the field small soccer players kicked a ball while their parents looked on. Joggers ran by… a man with a dog… a boy on a bike. And then… A GIRL on a bike.

This is where the story got interesting. At least for two 4-year old boys.

A 7 year old girl on a light blue bike with streamers began riding in circles around the baseball diamond.

Imaginary play came to a screeching halt as CJ and Parker fixed their gaze on this new and fascinating intruder.

Every time she rode her bike close to them, they let out forced bellows of laughter, clapping each other on the back and falling to the ground. The pony-tailed rider ignored them, riding around and around with a beatific smile.

After ten minutes of this, the boys decided they needed to take it up a notch.

“You’re going to JAIL!” they shouted, chasing after her.

Still no response from the elusive but fascinating girl, so CJ and Parker huddled in the dugout to confer.

Plan C involved throwing their bodies at the chain-link fence, shouting out “DO YOU WANT TO BE OUR FRIEND?!” and falling (with drama) onto the ground. Over and over and over and over and over again.

I watched this weird cave-man type ritual and couldn’t help but envision them 10 years from now, fourteen year olds, engaging in basically the same type of play.

CRASH RATTLE… DO YOU WANT TO BE OUR FRIEND?!… THUD

and repeat.

It’s the mating call of the ages.

And then, like magic, it WORKED! The object of our little boys’ affection got off her bike to play with them. Like lemmings they forced each other to higher and higher steps on the second set of bleachers, then leaping - arms flailing - to the ground.

This is romance. The making-a-fool-of-yourself. The playing hard to get. The making-a-BIGGER-fool of yourself and having it WORK. The scary lengths you’ll go to in order to impress each other.

I think back to my dating years, and realize that as much as we think we grow up, really we don’t. We just adopt increasingly more sophisticated versions of this very basic pattern.

I’m glad I don’t have to do THAT any more!

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