It was a breezy, almost sunny afternooon, and the kids and I were enjoying the day at the park. I was sitting at the picnic tables, nearly engrossed in my book of the month, The Thirteenth Tale.
I think it was Daredevil's playful cries to "Stop. Stop!" that made me look up.
He was on the swing, and the 9-year old girl I had met about half an hour ago, was pushing him on the swings.
Pushing him on the behind.
I started to move forward - then held myself still. And watched.
When she didn't listen the second time, Daredevil made a decision before I could. And simply jumped off the swing.
It was a helluva jump - and he didn't give away any awkwardness or discomfort. Instead, he hollered with approval at his own jump, and made a mark - challenging her to beat his.
But now it was her time to swing, and I wasn't the only adult watching.
It wasn't her mother, that I was sure of based on our little conversation earlier. I'm assuming it was her Aunt that tentatively made her way over, objections already forming on her lips. But she stopped herself just two feet short of her target.
Daredevil was pushing his playground friend, but not on her behind. He pushed using the sides of the swing, or the seat... but carefully managing to stay away from her behind.
And a goofy look of adoration crept up on my face as I watched my son, the diplomatic kid. Amazed that the little shit does actually listen to me. ;)
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