Kisses and the opposite of kisses

There are moments when you want to smother them with kisses and hugs and in the next you want to strangle them. Saturday was one of those days.

We went to the park and I made it clear that the kids had to stay in either the fenced in area of the park where the jungle gym and train where or on the side I was sitting at with the swings and slides.

Life was great until I was in this intense conversation with this woman and I hear whisperings around me.

“Where’s Jory?” I heard.

I hated/felt uncomfortable to interrupt the woman who was baring her soul, but I had to find Jory. I couldn’t believe he walked away we had been at the park for over an hour and a half and he had followed the rules, but sure enough he wasn’t in the train or on the other side of the jungle gym.

“I saw him with the boy with the four wheeler,” my friend’s son said.

Are you kidding me?! We all knew exactly who he was talking about. Everyone had seen the little boy on his upgrade from the battery powered cars that sell at Toys R Us and a step down from a child’s four wheeler. Did I mention it was bright yellow? The husband in the group and I ran off to the grassy areas, where he thought they would be.

And sure enough coming towards us was Jory driving the four wheeler and look- - Rowan, who hadn’t even been missed, was sitting behind him and in front of the owner of the bike.

“Get off!” I demanded. I was speechless as they got off. Where did I even begin to explain all the poor decisions they had made that led to them getting on the four wheeler. I took their hands and noticed the little boy with his helmet on was still sitting there. “Thanks for letting them ride, but they won’t be getting back on.” He was nice in sharing his bike with them.

We walked away from the boy and I squatted down to their level. “Why would you get on his four wheeler?” I questioned Jory.

“Because it seemed like fun,” he whispered.

It’s official, I can’t talk to this six-year-old. He’s insane. “Rowan, why were on the bike?”

“I was following Jory,” the four-year-old responded.

“Was Jory being obedient?” I asked.

“No.”

“So then why were you following him?”

“Because,” she whispered. Between this answer and her continuously following the rat of the air behind the swings, I’m beginning to think she was born on a blonde and by the time she came home it had darkened up. Okay, let’s be honest by the time the hair finally made a real appearance it was brown. (From birth to one, Jory had more hair on his head than Rowan did her first two years of life.)

“We’re going home,” I declared. Did they understand what could have happened? Did they understand they can’t just walk away from me?

Several hours later, we were seated at an outdoor amphitheater watching Phineas and Ferb: Across the Dimensions 2-D and they were well behaved, listened, and I could have smothered them with kisses.

How they take me from one extreme to another is death-defying.