Swings and Roundabouts

Our local playground is nothing fancy. In fact, it's a little bit derelict, like someone placed a few things there and thought 'kids might like this', then left and never returned. Our local playground has a swing set (one for babies and one for toddlers - mama's butt don't fit in no swing), two rickety see-saws and a slide. The grass at our local playground is dry, but good enough to eat - according to Elijah.

We go there when we need to fill in some time in the afternoon. Granted, the time spent there is short because first I'm worried if I push too high, Eli will undoubtedly lean back in the swing and fall out. Then I'm worried he's gonna get slide-burn because the sun has been shining on the metal of the slide all day. And there's nobody to sit on the other end of the see-saw, so we don't venture onto that.

Last time we went there was about a month ago at around 11am. We arrived at the same time as an old Indian woman and her (I assume) grandson - the cutest little Indian boy you've ever seen, about two years old... dressed in an all-in-one, if that helps with your imagining. We didn't talk, kind of just played in the same vicinity as each other, smiled occasionally, and at one stage he was able to be the 'see' to our 'saw' and we finally got to play on that elusive piece of playground equipment.

They kind of a little bit touched my heart, for whatever reason, but we left to go home and I resigned myself to probably never seeing them again - what are the chances of going to that same park, on the same day, at the same time? Especially given that we spend a total of about ten minutes there, due to said lack of exciting play equipment!

Today at 3pm we set off for the playground again - our first time since the last time. As it came into view I saw that it was empty as usual, no surprises there. As we got closer I could see some people in the distance heading towards the park as well, an adult and a toddler. NO, COULDN'T BE! IT WAS! Old Indian lady and cutest ever Indian grandson were back, same day, same time, same place!

We had been reunited, and this time we played together, and we laughed and we chatted and they came to our house for a cup of tea! No, not really. Unfortunately we played on our separate things, and then it got freezing cold so I put Eli back in the stroller to make the walk back home. Then, old Indian lady took her grandson by the hand and led him over to Eli. She spoke to him and he reached out and held Eli's hand for a second, then waved to me. Then, amongst much wild gesticulating, patting me on the back, and foreign language, she explained to me that she only speaks Punjabi. I explained back to her that I only speak English, but it would be great to see them back there again sometime and maybe the boys could go on the see-saw together again like last time. I could bring tea and scones, I said, and she could bring a picnic blanket. No, not really. But I did point at the swings and make a motion with my hand, telling the little boy in English that next time I would push him on the swing. He understood, I'm sure of it.

As we left, I felt a smile make its way onto my face (truly, it got there without my knowing). Language is  no barrier at the park and friends can be made by smiling and playing. Now, how do you say 'wanna come to my house for a cup of tea' in Punjab?

Lessons.

Elijah is 8 months old now (yay!). 8 months of joy, and feeling like I am the luckiest mum in the world. Unfortunately it is also 8 months of "he's how old? Gosh, he's huge!". Hey, complete strangers of New Zealand: I KNOW.

I used to justify it to people when they said that: "He was born big - he's actually on track growth wise, and he's in proportion if you take his height into account", but why should I have to? Lately I've just been giving a half-smile and changing the subject, but really I should stand up for my child! Let me know if you have any pithy comebacks I could use.

Here are a couple of recent situations where I could have used something snappy and cutting:

On Friday I popped into the jewellery shop to look at watches (there's a special occasion coming up). The lady behind the counter spots Tim with Elijah and says "How old is he?". "Eight months" I say. "How old?!" she exclaims. "Eight months" I repeat. "Oh gosh, he's big for eight months... are you sure?". Actually lady, you know what? I'm probably wrong.

On Saturday we went shopping again, this time at the appliance store. Just as we were leaving, Tim's name was called. It was his workmate (we'll call him Bryce... cos that's his name). Oh here we go, I thought. Bryce has consistently made reference to Elijah's size - both when I take him into Tim's work, and to Tim at other times. You won't believe the first thing he says... "Hey, is that The World's Biggest Baby?!". At this point, I should have said "Hey, are you the world's biggest dick head?" or something similar, but I showed amazing restraint instead! Then to his girlfriend he goes "He's the size of a two year old!". And I said: nothing. I was flabbergasted (and I am not often flabbergasted). Then we left and I bit my tongue to stop from crying.

My son does not look like this:

And even if he did, I would - most likely - still love him to pieces. I don't know many two year olds Elijah's size either. AND, his size 1 pyjamas are too big for him, SO THERE.

But I'm not justifying myself...