Little kids are so weird

I mean, we all know that, whether or not we live with little kids. But sometimes you get so used to your own little kids' weirdness that other kids' weirdness seems exceptionally weird in comparison. Especially at playgrounds.

We were in Utah for two weeks, and one of the first days with my family we went over to a park to play. Joseph was sort of interested in going on a boat, but every time he got near it the kids on the boat started throwing wood chips at him, despite intervention from nearby adults (aka me and my mom). Because . . . what else are you supposed to do with wood chips?

A while later, the boat was unoccupied, so Joseph hopped aboard, along with Matthew, my sisters, and me. The primary wood chip thrower came back, but we had already staked our claim so he didn't dare throw any more wood chips. Instead, he talked to us about himself. He saw a nasty cut on my sister's knee and kissed it better. What else are you supposed to do when you see pain and suffering in the world?

Then tonight we went to the park for the first time since we got back to New Haven. We brought Joseph's soccer ball and began kicking it around in the grass, trying to stay out of the way of a football game of some big boys. Out of nowhere, a little boy came running toward us with excitement. We figured he wanted to play with kids his age, so Joseph kicked the ball to him. He immediately scooped it up and booked it toward the other part of the park. Kevin chased after him and eventually got the ball back. Two policemen had been watching the whole thing and found it very funny. "We were wondering if he was actually going to play with you guys or steal your ball. I guessed that he was going to steal it, and I was right." He then joined us in our kicking along with the little boy, and helped reinforce our rule that "if you're going to play with our ball, you need to stay in this part of the park." The little boy got tired of our game and ran off as suddenly as he had appeared.

Then I took Matthew to the playground section of the park. While I was sitting on a bench watching him think about going down the slide, a girl walked by. She stopped suddenly when she saw me and just pointed at me. "What's that?" she asked.

I examined myself quickly. My shirt was a little dirty after a day of being pregnant, but I didn't think she was pointing to my shirt. "There's a baby in my tummy," I explained.

She continued to stare at me quizzically. "A baby in my tummy," I repeated. Although she didn't seem satisfied with my answer she decided to stop asking and walked away.

Luckily, this is the kind of weirdness most kids grow out of as they get older. At least, I hope so.