Doodaddy

My playground bud Tilly, age four, told me a secret today:

When you’re happy, you should hop on one foot.

And BY THE WAY I’m four AND A HALF!

So this is me hopping on one foot! And sorry about forgetting the half.

So why am I so happy (and so forgetful)? Because Boobaby and I were nearly clipped in a crosswalk on the way to the playground by a guy in a pickup truck — sadly, this isn’t unusual for my ‘hood — who proceeded to be waved down by a cop on construction detail down the block and TICKETED for it! After nearly daily encounters with aggressive drivers getting away with their pushy my-car-is-bigger-than-your-stroller attitude, seeing at least one pay a price makes me HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY!

Hopping, hopping, hopping on one foot!

My enthusiasm couldn’t even be dampened by my discovery that I’d left my food bag at home. I’m normally a little shy with the other dads on Thursdays — they have a meeting in our playground and I’ve heard that a couple of ‘em don’t really like me — but to heck with it on a day like today.

After mooching what food I could from Buddy Boy and a couple other friendly faces, I went right up to a dad who seems the least impressed by me (as if!) and asked if he had any munchies to spare. And he did! Cheerfully!

Just goes to show, I guess. Strangers are only strangers until they’re not.