The shitty playground consists of a couple old plastic slides, a crappy sandbox, and an unstable jungle gym. There used to be a really old, sun-bleached plastic playhouse with some doors and windows missing, but that's gone now. Something must have happened to it to make it too shitty for even the shitty playground. I refuse to believe that someone stole it. Not because I have any sort of faith in humanity and think people wouldn't steal from children or anything like that. It was just too shitty for anyone to bother with.
Will always insists on stopping to play, but then he inevitably asks me lots of questions that I can't answer. Things like, "Where are the swings?" "Where are the other kids?" "Where did the sand in the sandbox go?" "Can I climb that thing?" Wait, I can answer that one. No. You cannot climb the rickety deathtrap of death.
A few days ago, on our walk, after Will went down the two slides a couple times and tried to play in the crappy sandbox, we headed to the playground we don't usually go to because it's a little farther away than its identical twin. But we got there and there were kids everywhere. We're lucky to find a couple kids at the playground we usually go to. Not only were there kids everywhere, there were kids Will's age. He didn't have to lie about how old he was to get them to play with him.
The other parents came up and introduced themselves to me. Everyone was so friendly. "Oh, are you new here?" I explained that we usually went to the other playground, and asked if there were usually this many children at this playground. "Oh yeah, we're all usually here between four and five." I've decided that both the shitty playground and our usual playground are shitty playgrounds. From now on we're going where the kids are.
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