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It was another beautiful Spring day here. We had some time to kill, so we wandered down to the park again for some sun, sliding and talk of fish in the water.
Along with the beautiful weather, something else comes sneaking out. Rowdy teenagers. Who had pretty much taken over everything except for the playground. No big deal, we’re all entitled to out space in the sun.
We settle in for some quality slide time, me with a pug in one had, the kiddo with a huge grin plastered to his face. As he’s climbing up for his first run down the slide, something bursts behind us. It’s loud. It’s angry. It’s yelling. It’s a teenage boy. Mad for some reason about the tennis game he’s playing with his three friends. Essentially, he’s having a two year old tantrum, while his friends look on, slightly embarrassed.
As I cringe and pray with all my might that no choice words come flying out, Eli peers through the bars on the steps. He takes it all in for a minute. He tilts his head to the side. Deciding.
“Momma, that boy naaaauuuughty” he declares.
“Yes, yes he is” I reply.
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