Friday, May 23, 2014

White Trash Girls and Tornado Sirens

"Can we go to the park?"

That is the question I get hit with everyday from the Baby. There could be tornado sirens screaming and our iPhones blasting that crazy emergency broadcast and the Baby will ask if she can ride her scooter to the park. It's a little annoying to be asked everyday. I don't mind going but I wouldn't mind being lazy after a long day at work.

The park isn't far from our house, which is really convenient - it's about a 10 minute walk. The Baby will put on her helmet and hop on her little scooter and roll herself in front of us. She does a good job of stopping so she can literally smell the roses so we can catch up (or more so that the Wifey can catch up) and then she'll be off again.

The Baby will 'race' us to the park - it's not much of a race because when we start beating her, she tells us to stop so we can start the race all over again. The Wifey and I will sit at the bench while the Baby plays by herself, dangling and hanging from the bars.

The playground seems to be a local hangout for the white trash kids in our neighborhood. To be fair, it's just one white trash girl - she's probably about 12 or 13 but all she does is cuss and talk about how she's going to whoop someone's ass. She bullies everyone that hangs out at the park. And I just cringe listening to her because that could be the Baby. I am sure this girl is really nice around her parents, she's probably a great student, but her alter ego comes out at this park. Maybe her parents never took the time to talk to her or they were too lazy to go to the park with her. I want to tell her how trashy she is but she's pretty mean and I am afraid she might say some hurtful things to me. I'm even bullied by her.

I worry that the Baby will get bullied. She's so sensitive and tiny compared to everyone else. She wears weird clothes, she talks to herself, and she doesn't mind playing by herself. On our walks, she will pick flowers for us. She even picked the tiniest flower she could find for the baby inside the Wifey's belly. "It's a small flower because the baby is small," the baby told us as she handed us a flower.

Shit like that makes you a prime target for bullies. It's probably the fatherly instinct coming out in me; my paternal desire to always protect the Baby from everything negative in this world. But I won't always be at the park and I definitely can't beat up a 12 year old girl (I mean, I can guarantee you that I can physically beat up a 12 year old girl; I'll probably knock her out with one punch. It's just that, legally, I can't beat up a 12 year old girl) that is picking on the Baby.

I just have to hope the Baby can put down her freshly picked flowers and defend herself. Or maybe even avoid the situation all together. I just don't want her to ever lose the innocence and joy of simply going to the park.

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