Every playground has its drama, but nothing gets me more heated than slide politics. You’d think it would be simple: kids climb the ladder, kids slide down, repeat. Easy, right? Wrong. My kids treat slides like they’re Everest, and clearly, the only way to summit is by clawing their way up from the bottom.
Anthony is the ringleader here. He plants himself at the base, grinning, and before I can say “use the stairs,” he’s halfway up, hands and feet gripping like a gecko. And of course, Nico cheers him on because what’s better than enabling your younger brother’s bad ideas? “Go, go, go!” Like it’s American Ninja Warrior and not a public playground where I’m getting side-eye from other moms.
The problem isn’t even the climbing. It’s that other kids are at the top, actually waiting their turn like civilized human beings, and suddenly there’s a traffic jam. One kid tries to slide down, sees Anthony in his path, panics, and next thing you know, there’s a screaming pile of toddlers mid-slide. Meanwhile, I’m speed-walking across the wood chips, yelling, “We don’t climb UP the slide!” and tripping over someone’s forgotten Croc.
And let’s talk about the other parents for a second. There are the ones who glare at me like I’m raising delinquents. And then there are the chill ones, sipping iced coffees like, “Eh, they’ll figure it out.” I’m trying to be that second parent, I really am, but the first time a kid face-planted because my child was blocking the slide, my mom guilt skyrocketed.
The wild part? My kids KNOW. They’ve heard me say it a thousand times. “The slide is for going DOWN.” I might as well be screaming into a void. It’s like they were born with selective hearing. They’ll ignore me completely, but the second I whisper “ice cream,” they come running like trained Labradors.
And then there’s Rex. Bless him, but his approach is basically “let them learn.” He stands there with his arms crossed, smiling like the playground chaos is a live-action sitcom. “They’ll figure it out, Nat. Survival of the fittest.” Excuse me? No, Rex. This is not nature. This is a playground in Doral where Karen is about three seconds away from filing a complaint because Anthony is blocking her angel child’s descent.
Still, I have to admit there’s something kind of hilarious about watching Anthony’s little determined face as he scrambles up that plastic mountain like it’s his destiny. Or Nico making it halfway before sliding back down in defeat, dramatically yelling, “I’ll never make it!” while other kids look on like, “what is wrong with this family?”
But here’s the truth: playground politics are a mess no matter what you do. Somebody’s going to hog the swings. Somebody’s going to cut the line. Somebody’s going to cry because they dropped their Goldfish in the mulch. And apparently, my kids will always treat slides like uphill challenges.
So yeah, the slide is for going down. Everyone knows it. My kids just don’t care. And maybe one day I’ll stop caring too. Until then, you’ll find me at the playground, muttering “it’s not a staircase” under my breath while pretending I don’t see Anthony scaling Mount Slide in his crocs.