Last Saturday we armed ourselves with balloons and headed to the park to release some tension. Between the rainy weather and the awful bout of fatigue I’ve had for the last few weeks, we were all going bat crap crazy from being inside and invading each other’s personal space. I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until I overheard Brooklyn scream to Ace: “Leave me alone Ace! You’re a LOSER LOSER!” A double loser? Ace… the dog? (This was definitely not a WINNING moment for her.) We needed wide open spaces asap. An outing to the park seemed like the perfect plan.

As soon as balloons were blown, and feet hit grass, they were off and running. Even the twins were trying to get in on the action. They gave me the “What you talking about, Willis” look when I called them back over to me, while I looked around for an available park bench.

Whenever we go to the park, I always try to sit on an unoccupied bench that allows me a clear view of my children playing… and a good look at the creepy old guy walking with just a leash — no dog. YES. SIR. I HAVE MY EYES ON YOU. This particular day, I had no such luck with the unoccupied part. So I sat beside another mother, who, at first glance, didn’t seem to mind me and my animated balloon tossing twins.

And that’s when my day got weird.

She: They’re running wild aren’t they? Some children underestimate the power of silence.

Me: They’re just children letting loose in this very PUBLIC PARK. No louder than to be expected. *insert piercing stare*

She: I love bringing my children to the park. They play QUIETLY while I READ.

Me *snickers*

She: (Repeating herself.) I read while they play quietly. (Does she want a cookie? Handshake? Or maybe an enema? Who knows.)

Me *snickers and unable to contain myself* So *pause* you’re like *pause* one of those Perfect Parents I’ve heard about?

She: I guess so! (Eagerly taking the bait.)

Me: So! Can I call you PP for short?! *throws up jazz hands up and snickers hysterically* (It is so sad that I have the sense of humor of a seven year old boy.)

It is at this point that I toss a twin over each shoulder, (not really) throw up the peace sign, (really) and exit stage left to RUN WILD with the rest of my brood.

I might have also shouted LOSER LOSER as I ran, jumped, and shouted away.

Sorry Charlie, but this was a true WINNING moment.

(Let the record reflect that I intend to use my allotted share of WINNING in my next series of blog posts. You can thank “The Sheen” for this.)