I just thought I’d do a round up of recent things I’ve experienced at the play park with Arch.

Girls Playing Mother May I

Mother, May I say what a fucking douchie game this is? Oh my god, listening to these eight year old girls reminded me exactly of that tone that the rich Santa Monica mommies had all the time — “Maria, May I have a decaf non fat vanilla soy latte for little Brunhilda here and a non fat decaf Pinkberry extra berrie no cal berry soy yogurt for wee Rexibald as well?”

Seriously, listening to this made me want to kiss Archie’s Y chromosome.

The Lady with the Dog

The other day a woman was at the jungle gym, with her kid and her dog. She turned to me and said, “Does your boy run toward dogs?” And I said, “well, he’ll run toward the jungle gym where your dog is tied up.” And she said, “Well, he should stay away from my dog. She’s unpredictable around children.”

Teenagers

Dudes, I totally know you ditched class and I totally fucking wrote two books about teenagers fucking, but like could you hang out in the parking lot of the Pizza Hut like we used to. And seriously, girls, if your guy doesn’t have a car — ditch him.

Cigarette Butts

I’m thinking these are left over from the teenagers who come to the park at night, but seriously, ew gross. Children are like magpies. They will pick up those butts and turn them into airplanes or dollies or mommy’s little helpers because kids have imagination. IMAGINATION, remember it, people? And because when I go to the play park, all I want to do is sit on the bench, knit, read my book, sleep behind my sunglasses or if I had an iPhone, look at porn, I do not want to worry that my kid is going to become addicted to nicotine at age three. I’m saving that for four and a half.

Dog Shit

Hi, dog owners! Hi, how are you? I’m Melissa Lion and my kid, until last week, wore diapers. So he wouldn’t crap all over the place. See how that is? I don’t let my kid drop his drawers and crap in areas where the public is allowed. So, maybe, just maybe you can clean your dog’s shit up?

Parents Making Small Talk

Please don’t. Please god, please don’t speak to me. I don’t care how old your child is. I don’t care that your ex left alligators in your basement because the two of you had an alligator rescue service and kept the alligators you rescued and now she’s gone and you’re stuck with a toddler and several adolescent alligators (true story, Paying Members of the Melissa Lion Fan Club). I don’t want to discuss any of it. I just want to sit on my bench and be quiet. And antisocial. And quiet. AND QUIET. And plus, other parents frighten me…with good reason, as you can see.

One more thing that is NOT park related — ARE YOU READING THE UNDERBLAWGER? Just go there now. Stop reading this crap here. GO! But come back, ‘kay?