As Grandma Jellyspoon's tenure as World's Greatest Governess winds down, and my wife and I cringe along toward the Summer of Chaos, I'm starting a new entry category: It Should Have Been Said. (For the first installment, click here.) See, playground parenting can be a challenge when your kid is threatened by another parent's carelessness, and I just know that if I don't vent some steam here, my sleep deprivation will team up with my feral, "protect the progeny" instinct and cause me to do something I'll regret.
Dear Fellow Playground Daddy:
I'm really glad you have the time to have a catch with your 9-year-old son. It's great that you can spend time together while he gets some fielding practice. However, did you see the sign that says "No hardballs permitted"? There's a reason for that. See, there are a lot of much younger kids frolicking around thinking they're not about to get concussed by a stray line drive. So could you switch to something else, like a tennis ball, please? Thanks a lot.
Hey. Didn't I just ask you to use a different ball? Oh, you changed to one of those semi-soft baseballs. I see. And that's supposed to be OK, is it? I have an idea. You can take the little rubber ball that my son and I are using and throw it at my head as hard as you can. And then I'll throw your ball at your head as hard as I can. Which of us do you think will leave under his own power?
Oh, so now you're giving me attitude? You come in here, ignore the rules and endanger my kid, and I'm the asshole? OK, you useless, arrogant pantywaist. You keep playing with whatever ball you want. And if my son gets hurt, I'm going to do the same to you. While your kid watches.
All the best,
Ah. I feel better already.