Friday, September 10, 2010
(Father) Old McDonalds
Have you heard of the Mosquito teen repellent? Kids can hear it but adults can’t.
Well, they must have made an overhead lighting adult repellent sound in the Playground because that had me scratching my ears off. Beast and Fire could have cared less. Here is my theory, McDonalds wishes the families would leave sooner so other families can come in. And here is the kicker. It is right when the children are starting to have the time of their lives. That way the children will only remember ecstasy at its highest degree and will therefore desire to come back to this playground drug again and again and again anxiously looking for the high they had once experienced.
I already know what you’re going to ask me next. What might be the reason we never know when and how this cesspit is cleaned? I mean, how hard is it to throw a small 14 yr old kid, who is excited to be making minimum wage, into that septic tank with a brush and a bucket of bleach. And how hard would it be to post a date as to when it was done? I’m sorry but I have no answer for that. In fact, it furthers the question as to why I would ever allow my child into that bacteria packed container in the first place? And for the love of all things holy, what would possess me to go in there and contort my body into a backyard folding chair to retrieve Fire who refuses to come out?
Ugh. It has to be love. As many of you know, asking your child if they want to go to McDonalds is like asking if a fly wants to lay its eggs on dung. Of course they do! And the response I get is worth it. My kids feel emotions to its deepest degree and do not have the capacity to screen them. So when they have an overwhelming sense of joy it makes me smile. It makes me happy. Because, as crazy as it sounds, someday I will wish I had the opportunity to take Beast and Fire back to McDonald’s Playland. When Beast turns to me and asks if I wouldn’t mind standing somewhere outside a 20 yard radius of him in a public place I will ask him, “Would you like to go to Mickey D’s!?!?” He will look at me blankly, turn to his friends, and continue with his conversation. And after I have turned to go there will be a tug on my pant leg. I will look down and see a four year old boy.
“Mister, I would like to go to McDonald’s……………..Why are you crying?” I will then reach into my back pocket, pull out a wad of cash and shove it into his hands.
“Buy a camera and tell your mom to take pictures. She will thank me in 10 years.”