I was at the playground the other day where I took part in the saddest father-son moment I've ever seen. I can only describe it as the sound of one hand clapping. When I got to the playground I saw this suspicious looking guy standing far off in the corner smoking a cigarette...on the playground. There were no other kids around, or so I thought. As we got inside the gate I saw this little kid on the swings by himself.
He was about three years old, which meant he was too little to swing himself so he just sat there kinda rocking back and forth. His little face was filled with hope that somehow that was the magic formula for swinging...leaning back and forward and moving all of two inches in each direction. He saw me and my daughter come in and before I knew it he was standing on the edge of the sandbox staring at us like the serial killer he is sure to become thanks to his neglectful father.
"Will you play with me?" I thought he was talking to my daughter. Unfortunately, he was talking to me. "Sir, will you play with me?" I love kids, but if I've learned anything from Michael Jackson, it's Leave Little Kids (Especially Boys) The Hell Alone. "Uh, is that your dad over there?" He shook his head. "I think you should probably go play with him. He looks lonely over there (slowly developing lung cancer)." He shrugged and released a depressing sigh. "You could play with my daughter here in the sandbox."
He eagerly jumped in the sandbox, grabbed a shovel and started digging. A few minutes later Wonderdad appeared. "Hey." I said hey back and he just stood there as if he was learning how to be a dad by watching us. Then his son grabbed my daughter's hand and said, "Girl, come watch me go down the slide." My daughter snatched her hand away and gave him the "did you just touch me" look. "Mister. Make girl go watch me go down the slide." I looked at his father like, "Jump in here whenever you want" but he just stood there.
"Come on, let's go get on the slide." My daughter begrudgingly went down the slide one time and immediately returned to the sandbox. "Girl, I'm not finished. Come back and watch me." I started painting a picture of what his home life was like. "We're gonna get in the sandbox, because that's her favorite thing, but you're welcomed to come with us or keep sliding." He started crying at the top of the slide and his father just looked at me like, "What do I do now?" I walked away and left him to figure it out.
Eventually he came back to the sandbox and his father plopped him down beside us. We talked about absolutely nothing for two full minutes, then he sat there in awkward silence for another minute before standing up and walking away. Literally. He got up, walked to the gate and left the playground. I thought that he was possibly going to his car to get something. No, dude walked to the corner, crossed the street and kept going.
I thought to myself (maybe I even said it out loud), "Did he just safe drop this little boy with me at the playground?" The little boy didn't even seem fazed. I tried to justify it. "Maybe he went to the house to get something." After twenty minutes, I ran out of ideas. "This dude just abandoned his child."
It's a sad indicator of the type of world we live in, because my immediate thought was self preservation. My conscience was like, "He's a little kid. He says he's only three. You should call the police." Then the inner Black man who's seen some things in his life and whose only job is to keep me outta jail said, "You really plan on taking a little white boy off the playground and to your house in THIS neighborhood? Guilty!"
I hung around for another ten minutes while kinda watching his kid, but not really. I kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't high dive off the slide onto the concrete, but at the same time, I didn't get too close to him in case his absentee father returned and wondered "Why is this guy so close to my kid."
His father showed up just as the little boy was playing hide and go seek by himself and he walked up to me a little too casually, "Hey, have you seen my kid? He's like this tall and had on a blue shirt." I was thinking to myself, "There were no other kids on the playground when you left him and there are no other kids now. Why do you feel the need to describe him to me? Are you reminding yourself of what he looks like?" Instead I just said, "He's over there behind that tree."
Then the guy starts telling me how he feels so fortunate to finally be able to spend some time with him since he got divorced and only sees him once a month. (Thinking to myself) "Wow. This is your version of spending time. How did your ex let a keeper like you get away?" We talked for a few more minutes while his son went back to rocking back and forth on the swing. Other kids showed up and his dad pulled out another cigarette...on the playground.
"Well it's been fun. Gotta go."
"Yeah, we should hang out some time."
"Uh huh. Bye."
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