We have a fabulous park at the end of our street. It's huge, with two separate playgrounds (one for the littles and a mega one for the big kids), basketball, skate park, fitness trail, and picnic pavilion. It's part of the reason why we chose this town to live in, and that was before we even knew about the green markets, food truck invasions, and movies on the lawn. Like I said, fabulous.
I try to venture out to the park at least once a week, if it isn't too miserable out. But the kid love loves being outside, so heading to the park is a wonderful thing. And it doesn't take much drama to get her ready to go either. Just say "park" and she's ready to suit-up.
She used to be satisfied by the swings. Swinging for days.
But since she started walking at thirteen months (and two weeks), Z only wants to walk. That's it. Walk.
Sure, she'll side-track up the steps onto the playset, play the chimes and contemplate the slide (which I'm so glad she isn't into yet cuz, as any Florida kid knows, the hot plastic will fry the skin off your sweaty legs!)...
but usually she's right back down the steps where she begins her trek.
She starts by wandering around the toddler playground, always heading for the benches.
Then makes her way out to the path with mommy in tow.
Up the ramp...
to the concession stand...
where she is distracted by this outlet box - every. single. time.
Somehow we end up in the grass, ignoring the shady winding sidewalks that meander all around the park.
That's about the time that the heat gets the best of us and it's time to head back home to the blessed a/c. But you-know-who is less than enthused to be leaving the park (even if it does feel like a bazillion degrees outside.).
Constitution Park - for the win!
