Yesterday, we ventured out of the house for the first time. Lacking car seats still, we could only make it as far as the neighborhood park, but that was a fun change of pace and occupied the better part of two hours. As I'm learning, when you want to go somewhere with children, pad your time estimates with at least a half an hour on either end.

The park was fun, we did slides and monkey bars and swings and such. There were a couple of girls with their mom when we arrived. The mom and I smiled and exchanged pleasantries. Unclear on the social protocol of parental playground interaction, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to let the children go and continue to talk with the mom, or do what I did and follow L around the playground.

There was a guy cleaning his pimped-out ride (a Toyota Corolla, unless I miss my guess) pumping out some tunes while he did so. What's he doing? enquired L. I explained he was cleaning his car so he could go try to pick up girls. Why? Because that's what boys do. What's that sound? That is the sound of hip-hop, my child. What's it saying? I don't know, but it's probably something about fast cars and girls. Why? Why? Why? I love this job.

Some teenaged gangsta wannabes showed up and started trying to play basketball. Much as I wanted to throw down and embarass them in front of their girlfriends, well, I had my charges to consider. So we took the scenic route back to the house instead, discussing dandelions and doggies.