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Park Hopping and Other Treats

 
We didn’t have a lot when my children were growing up and very early on, I realized my personality and imagination were going to have to fill in where the pay cheque was insufficient. Thanks to my insane imagination, a lousy lunch of peanut butter sandwiches became cuisine at a French restaurant as I cut the sandwiches into fancy little pieces, served them high on a tray, and announced their arrival in a French accent that probably had my Dad spinning in his grave.

Ice cream trips were rare, special treats but ‘park hopping’ made the same old location seem somehow exciting, thanks to the time limit.

The idea was simple – as I parked in the parking lot of the first location, I explained the rules. “You have 15 minutes kids, THATS ALL! Run, play on any equipment you want, STAY CLOSE so I can see you, but remember at the fifteen-minute mark WE ARE OUTTA HERE because I have another surprise for you”.

Off they would run, almost tripping over themselves to hit the swings, the sandbox, and the teeter tooter. When I called, they ran back to the car and off to the next park we went to repeat the same recipe for fun.

Yes, imagination and lack of funds meant my children played with real potatoes rather than Mr. Potato Head®. They believed that having cereal for dinner was a usually forbidden ‘breaking the rules’ not the day before payday, and I thank Creator for that. My kids had no concept of the reality that they were the children of a struggling single Mom, or maybe they did know, but I don’t think they cared.

 
I love you!
HUGSSSSSSSS
Sandi