Surrender Your Booty!

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Alas, it’s not what you think. I’m referring to Mike, who brought along the Veggie Pirate’s Booty for the girls for a day of hanging out at our new local playground.

Booty

Good thing Mike brought this… 
  <p>
    <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000CORSFE?ie=UTF8&tag=doodaddy-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B000CORSFE"><img loading="lazy" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="200" alt="Balls" src="/uploads/2008/04/balls.jpg" width="200" border="0" /></a>
  </p>
…and not this!

That wasn’t all of today’s booty, though. Right in front of their seven-month old dangling on the baby swings, a daddy and a mommy (I hope) were makin’ out. Here I leave off the ‘g’ intentionally: these two evident adults were “makin’ out” in a way that you pretty much only witness among sweaty teenagers in front of the Burger King just before their 10 p.m. curfew. Daddy was, I kid you not, massaging mamma’s left buttock like it was a risen whole wheat loaf. In the middle of a full-to-crowded playground, no less.

With mingled disgust, amusement, and (it must be said) a little bit of envy of the young at heart, I called the horn-doggery to Mike’s attention. He almost got a picture of it on his phone (it was going on long enough!), but couldn’t quite get the angle.

It’s a good thing Mike didn’t bring the Pirate’s Cannon Balls today. You never know what might have happened.