Now that the days are beginning to feel vaguely spring-like on this side of the Atlantic, we thought it would be nice to introduce the Prawn to the Great Outdoors. Namely, the bit of it that exists just across the street from our flat on the village green. While the Prawn already has one spring and summer under her belt this will be the first outdoor friendly season that she will be mobile, so we thought we’d get a head start on Sunday due to really quite bizarrely mild temperatures.
We thought the playground might be a good place to start as the Prawn has shown a fondness for rough and tumble play. I had afternoon tea with my friend the Danish Muffin last week and saw that her little boy, Cone-ass the Barbarian, had one of those canvas tunnels that he enjoyed crawling through. The Prawn looked positively enthralled, but slightly reticent to join in due to the fact that Cone-ass is a year older and much more rambunctious that she is. (He was all like, “What the hell are you doing? Crawling? What’s THAT about? On your feet, soldier!” and kept trying to drag her around by her hands.) At any rate, I thought she’d enjoy a tunnel of her own, so I picked one up from Argos for about 10 quid. After an initial flat refusal to enter, putting the Sky remote at the opposite end had the desired effect. I swear that TV remotes act as crack for babies. They simply can’t get enough of them, no matter WHAT banquet of expensive playthings is laid out before them. She loves the tunnel now and comes charging through, laughing like a madthing if Mr. DD or I pokes our head through at the other end.
There’s something vaguely depressing about an empty playground, especially on a weekend afternoon. The combination of the rugby and the football saw to that. There were 4 urchins kicking around a football that had seen better days, but other than them, we had the place all to ourselves. However, we hit upon a snag almost instantly.
The Prawn hates playgrounds.
I imagine that this is a phase that will pass, cause dude, kids love playgrounds. I have many a fond memory of palms blistered from hours on the monkey bars or being sick during language arts because I spent all of recess being spun round and round on a tire swing. Good times. My guess is that we took Her Prawness slightly to close to naptime and were therefore assured the crankiest possible reaction. The swings, as you can see, produced the most definitive result. Even after both Mr. DD and I demonstrated that swings obviously rule by swinging on them ourselves, the Prawn was unconvinced and ratcheted up her dislike to LipCon 5, as you can see.
Now, I totally want to instill great virtuousness in my child and laughing at others pain is certainly not something I want to encourage, but it is difficult to stifle guffaws when a person the size of a wastebasket pulls a mug like this.
Things got no better when we decided to let her have an explore on her own. I suppose, for someone who’s never really put their full body weight on damp ground before, the experience might be less than pleasant. The Prawn steadfastly refused to move an inch on the dirt, raising her chubby little arms above her head in order to be liberated from her predicament.
Admitting defeat, we finally traipsed back inside, dreaming of warmer weather and a bi-pedal Prawn who will enjoy the outdoors. Maybe minus the mud.