We don’t negotiate with terrorists

Me: Ok, Evan, Sean, Daddy, we’re leaving the park in ten minutes.

 

My husband: Sounds good.

 

***

Me: Evan, Five minutes!  Sean, five minutes!

 

My husband: Ok, five minutes.

 

***

Me: Ok.  We’re going!  Sean, Evan, one more time down the slide, and then we’re leaving.

 

Evan: How about two more times?

 

Me: No, just one more time.

 

Evan: Ok. Ok. How about three more times?

 

Me: No, just one more time.

 

Evan: Ok.  Ok.  How about one more time and four more times?

 

Me: We don’t negotiate with t- With boys.  One more time down the slide.

 

Evan: Ok.  Ok.  Two more times!

 

Evan finished going down the slide and started to climb up again.  I close lined him and carried him over my shoulder until I dumped him in the wagon. 

 

Me: Just one time.

 

 

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The Green Balloon

It was a beautiful day in Arizona, a day that the news channels predicted rain, a day that there was not one cloud to blight the bright blue sky.  Since, my husband had come in the night before, missing the whole week with the family, we decided we should take the boys to the park.

 

Evan sprinted to the playground the minute his feet touched the ground with his father trailing him.  Sean also sprinted in his wiggle-waggle way, pumping his arms side to side instead of back and forth, so I was able to walk along behind him, allowing him to feel the wind created by his run.  Evan jumped off the concrete guard into the sand, yelling for his father the join him on the slide.  Sean noticed Evan had cleared two green balloons, slowly leaking helium.

 

Sean waddled over to the balloons.  “‘Loon!  ‘Loon!”  He bent down to investigate the green balloons, still round with air.  The wind started to push the balloons away, and Sean stood up to watch.  Then he bent down and snatched one balloon.

 

He intended to grab the second balloon, but the wind wouldn’t allow it.  The balloons were still knotted together at the end of the gold ribbons.  As Sean walked to grab the other balloon, the wind kept the ribbon taunt.  The balloon lay a mere foot away from Sean’s outstretched hand.  Sean walked; the balloon floated away.  No matter how stubborn Sean was to catch the balloon, the balloon was just as stubborn not to get caught.  Walk, float.  Walk, float.

 

Finally Sean gave up, leaving the balloon to its own devices.  He turned and walk towards me holding out the balloon for me to inspect.  He noticed a tug and turned around to see the other green balloon had followed him.  He took a step, and the balloon floated behind him.  Step, float.  Step, float. 

 

Frustrated by the whole event, Sean handed me the balloon and pointed to the ribbon that chained it to the partner balloon.  I tried to pull off the string with no luck.  I fumbled for my keys and the pocket knife linked to them, leaving the balloon in Sean’s capable hands.  As I tried to flip out the scissors, Sean yanked, pulled, tugged on the ribbon, until it flipped off the balloon.  The balloon inflated to a rubber pool, leaving Sean in disbelief.  He looked up at me with puppy dog eyes, and I braced myself for his now all-too-famous crying temper tantrum.

 

“SEANNY!” Evan called from the top of the slide.  Sean turned around and ran to his brother. 

 

 

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