Watching: Freaks and Geeks. Huzzah! After being pre-empted for two weeks for stupid, stupid baseball, it's back!

Pet Owner

We dropped Tab off at the train station early this morning. He is going to the East Coast Photo Expo, a photographic manufacturers' and vendors' trade show in New York City today. Originally he had planned to go yesterday, but then the Yankees won the World Series and a ticker tape parade was scheduled for Friday at noon. So he opted to go today to avoid the crowds.

Daniel spent last night at his grandmother's house. She will be bringing him back later this afternoon for his swimming lesson. In the meantime, the little guys and I are on our own.

Right now we are at the playground enjoying the sunny skies and unseasonably warm weather. We were alone here at first, but about twenty minutes ago, a mother and her nearly four-year-old daughter arrived.

I quickly pegged the mother as a perfect example of what Tab and I have come to call "Pet Owners." Pet owners are parents who hover protectively over their little Harrison or Sierra, following them around the playground, and watching their every move. This pet owner was shadowing her daughter, chanting a litany of warning: "Oh, don't do that, Alanna! You have to slide sitting down, not lying down! Don't touch that! Be careful! You're too high! Slow down!"

Stephen, who had been playing nicely with Matthew up until the arrival of Alanna and her mother, was immediately attracted to them, as he always is to females of all ages. He tagged along with them as they explored the maze, chattering away merrily. Matthew followed along behind them, seeming a little resentful of the newcomers.

"I like your pants," Stephen remarked to Alanna. She was wearing red-trimmed jeans with a purple belt.

"You should like mine," Matthew muttered to Stephen. "Mine are prettier."

In addition to over-protecting her own child, Alanna's mother was doing her best to safeguard mine, having obviously identified me as a lax, negligent mother. I mean, there I sat at the picnic table, writing away, while my two boys ran around the playground! And played! Imagine that.

"Be careful!" Alanna's mother told Stephen, who had climbed onto the jungle gym. "Don't fall!"

"We have a big brother. He's six. He can do a flip on this," Stephen said. He tried to demonstrate, fell off onto the soft surface three feet below, laughed, and ran off.

Alanna just whispered something to her mother. "Oh, Alanna! Are you sure?" Alanna nodded. "Can't you wait?" Alanna shook her head.

"Oh, all right," sighed the mother and the two of them headed off to the woods. Sometimes, I am reminded of the advantage of having all boys. Inpromptu visits to the woods are much easier to manage with sons than with daughters.

"Come right back as fast as you can," Stephen called after them.

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