Joy

Three year old Bobby Lundquist was excited.  As soon as he was released from his car seat, he jumped to the ground and hopped about and took in the sights.  The park was magnificent.  The playground had a multitude of things to climb upon and under.  Quickly, his mother grabbed his hand and held him tightly.  He pulled on the sudden intrusion that threatened to squelch his exuberance.  He couldn’t break free.  Mom had him.

 

He complained, “Mommy, I wanna play.”

 

“I know and you will.  Just wait a minute.”

 

He always heard that phrase.  He didn’t fully understand how long a minute lasted.  He only knew it took forever.  Once dad got everything out of the trunk of the car, the family headed to the playground.  The sounds of other children screaming with delight urged Bobby forward.  Pulling his mother who was smiling at his energy, Bobby’s mind raced with thoughts of fun.  How he wanted to play and run with the other children!  Just as he was about to step onto the edge of the playground, his hand was released. 

 

He was free to take in all his heart could desire.  He ran to the ladder leading to the slide.  A little boy was above him beaming from ear to ear as he glanced down.  Bobby shouted something unintelligible upward but the boy understood this language.  It was called fun.  For the next 30 minutes the two new friends ran and chased each other while also climbing over and under bars and slides and swings. 

 

Suddenly Bobby felt it.  He stopped and grabbed his crotch and ran to his father.  Seeing the universal sign for, “I gotta pee!” the two ran for the nearest toilet.  Dad was happy his son was out of the habit of simply whipping it out whenever the need arose.  If only he would stop waiting until he had to do the “Potty Dance” before he noticed the call of nature.

 

An hour later it was time to eat.  Bobby had things to do and did not want to eat.  His new friend called out to Bobby as he walked with his parents to a picnic table, “Just eat two bites and come back.”  Kneeling on the bench, Bobby took the first bite of his two bites when the flavor of the warm fried chicken reminded him of his hunger.  His parents knew he was hungry since he wasted no time munching bite after bite.  Once his stomach was satisfied and thirst quenched, Bobby jumped down intending to return to his friend.  Then he heard his mother’s voice, “Hold on a minute.”

 

Suddenly, he felt her hands pulling him to her.  She pulled out wipes and began cleaning his hands and face.  For little boys, getting your hands washed was one thing.  Why did moms want to scrub skin off a boy’s face?  They kept wiping and scrubbing.  It was torture. 

 

Once the cleaning was complete, Bobby raced to where he last saw his friend.  He wasn’t there.  Bobby then darted from spot to spot searching for his friend.  He saw him eating at a picnic table and felt dejected.  When he spotted dad walking toward him, he felt a big smile come to his face.  Mom was cleaning up the picnic table.  That meant he and dad could play.  Dad, using his big scary voice, let out a roar.  Bobby smiled and roared back at him.  Upon hearing Bobby’s roar, dad recoiled in mock fear.  Bobby stalked forward toward his prey, hands lifted and curled like claws.  When Bobby got close enough, dad sprung forward, snatched his son and lifted him to the air.  The boy squealed with delight. 

 

Dad said, “I’m still hungry.  Little boy sandwiches are just what I need.”  Then he pulled Bobby close and pretended to nibble his arms, legs, and neck.  Each spot tickled the boy and he squirmed and laughed uncontrollably.  He loved when his parents did this to him even though dad’s beard felt scratchy on his tender skin.  So it went for a few more minutes until mom arrived.  It was time to leave.  

 

Bobby had thoroughly enjoyed his time at the park.  It couldn’t end now.  A great sadness erupted within him and spilled out tears down his cheeks.  He felt anger the happy moments were being taken away.  He wailed as his father carried him to the car.  Dad softly said, “It’s ok buddy.  We’ll come back.”

 

About 30 minutes into the ride home, Bobby was fast asleep.  Dad looked at him from the rear view mirror and he smiled.  Whispering to his spouse, he said, “Look at him.”  She turned and smiled.  “He’s a little angel, our little bundle of joy.”