And so it goes. You're having a perfectly pleasant afternoon at the park, passing just enough time until husband/wife/partner/babysitter/grandma/landlord comes home and officially takes over sticky granola bar scraping duty, happy that your child's not the one with the snot-gushing nose/sand-throwing problem/scab obsession for once, delighted that you're both refreshed after a real nap/lunch/marathon Dragon Tales session, with enough silence and shade to glance down occasionally at your latest semi-trashy mommy lit/somewhat kinky Cookie magazine/devilishly dirty Ikea catalog, when it happens. Annoying Dad and Clingy Kid slope in through the gate and slide right up next to you in the sand pit. They don't have their own toys/juice boxes/self-contained conversations. One accidental moment of eye contact and you're their new park buddies.
You can choose to evacuate nevermore to return to this particular park, possibly neighborhood/suck it up, put down the guilty pleasure reading and play nice/pretend you can't hear him over the roar of your kid's dump truck sounds. Whatever you do, you're doomed by this interruption, this collision in the midst of Zen parenting. At least you're not alone/kooky/being mocked by other mommies hiding behind trees in the park to avoid Annoying Dad. Here are some other unfortunate meetings that have recently upset the balance of goodness in the universe. Introduce yourselves:
iPhone, meet eau de toilette. And not the fancy smelling kind.
Writer, meet talent consultant, meet Martina, meet more toilette.
Kids, meet more craplastic.
Boobs, meet Facebook.
