Sometimes I feel a little sad at the park. Like when I see the mom turning pages on the shady bench because her kids are all [both] old enough to play unsupervised, and I feel like my turn with a book will never come.
Often, I’m quite happy at the park. Like when I realize that I’ve got the best job in the world: I get to play outside with my kids on God’s glorious green earth, pretty much whenever we darn well please. And sometimes, I even get a turn on the swings.