When we last left our intrepid hero, he was walking away from the swingset after failing to secure a turn there for his child….
From the swingset I returned to “home base,” the bench next to which I had left our wagon upon arriving at the park. The wagon, with our coats and diaper bag in it, was gone.
I scanned the playground and found it about fifty feet away. With a small child in it. With our coats and diaper bags spread out on the ground next to it.
I walked over to the wagon. “Please get out of our wagon. It’s not yours, and it’s not nice to throw other people’s things on the ground.”
Silence. A look like I’m an alien. (“How dare you tell me what to do? You’re not my parent! Oh, wait, my parents don’t tell me what to do either!”)
I tried again. “Please get out of our wagon. It’s not appropriate to use other people’s things without permission or throw their things on the ground.
Silence again, but this time he got out. I loaded our things back into the wagon and pulled it back to where it belonged.
I have no idea where were the child’s parents were during all of this.