Campbell is my three year old, about to be four, grandson. He is a twin. His sister’s name is Miller. Miller is fearless; jump in the pool, touch the lizard and ride the pony. Campbell, on the other hand, is more measured; stays in the baby pool, won’t touch the lizard and views the pony from between his mother legs.
Recently, I took both my grand kids to the park to play. It was a cool playground with slides, rocket ships and a tunnel. There was also the usual assortment of teeter-totters, merry go rounds and swings. Miller and Campbell were playing in the sand box where Campbell had just made Miller a sand cake and was trying enthusiastically to get her to eat it. She was just about to take a bite, I was thinking “this is going to be good”, when a five year old big kid entered the sand box and told both Miller and Campbell to leave.
As I sat on the bench, I thought to myself “this is trouble”. Campbell is about to get the lower lip quivers and come running to me about the injustice of the big kid throwing him out of the sand box. What was I going to say? “Don’t cry Campbell, life isn’t always fair.” Or “Go bust him in the nose Campbell. Don’t let him take your sand box.” To my utter amazement Campbell looked the big kid in the eye and said in his deepest voice, “I’m not moving!” Anticipating a brawl, I moved toward the sand box, but stopped as the big kid turned and left the sand box.
As we were leaving, I asked Campbell what had happened in the sand box. Campbell stopped and looked across the play ground at the big kid and said “I don’t have to do what he says. He’s not my mommy or daddy.”
I thought to myself that’s not good. To Campbell and Miller I’m their Doodsie, not their mommy or their daddy. With that they both took off for the swings with me in hot pursuit.
Harry McHugh… first a corporate blue suiter then an entrepreneur. Writes to relive the adventure. Big believer in jump before you look. The results are usually hysterical. Catch Harry’s stories at: funnierthanwethink.blogspot.com/
