I’ve always been that friendly mom in the neighborhood, the one who comforts the lonely child at school pickup and keeps an eye on the little ones meandering through the grocery store. That all changed yesterday when I told a golden-haired girl at the park to scram.
It was a gorgeous day, perfect for making memories. I had planned a lovely picnic, filling our backpack with all sorts of fun — balls, bubbles, sand toys, and a Frisbee. My older daughter, Mia, zoomed in on her scooter, while my younger daughter, Lily, navigated her purple power wheelchair through the grass and over the sidewalks at the local park. I was looking forward to playing together, helping Lily explore the swings, slides, and climbing structures, even if it was a bit of a challenge for a kid who can’t stand on her own.
When we arrived, we found a shady spot to spread our blanket. Lily parked her chair, and we enjoyed lunch and some silly games. Mia zipped around on her scooter, while Lily and I played with bubbles. After a while, we gathered everything and moved to the swings and climbing equipment.
Mia led the charge, dropping her scooter beside the swing set. Lily and I followed a few minutes later, parking her chair next to Mia’s scooter. Taking Lily’s hands, I guided her towards the empty swing next to her sister. With my hands over hers, I pushed her gently into the air while she giggled and called out to Mia.
Just then, a golden-haired girl appeared, clad in a neon pink and green sundress, hopping excitedly on bare feet. She looked to be about five or six and immediately eyed Lily as a potential playmate. “Hi!” Lily called out. The girl, however, ignored her, pointing at Lily’s wheelchair instead. “Why does she have that?” she asked, looking at me.
“It helps her get around quicker,” I replied.
We moved to the climbing gym, where I assisted Lily up the steps, my body providing extra balance. After a slow ascent, we reached the top of the smaller tower, where Lily excitedly beckoned Mia for some hide-and-seek. But that golden-haired girl was back at my side, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “Why do you have to help her walk? Why do you have to hold her hands?” Her barrage of questions was relentless. “Oh, it helps her balance and go faster,” I answered, hoping to satisfy her curiosity.
For the next half hour, as Lily and I slid down slides and climbed to the top of the tower, the golden-haired girl reappeared, peppering me with more questions. “But why do you slide with her?” she asked, followed by, “I’m five, and I can do it by myself. Why can’t she?” I smiled through my teeth, delivering all the politically correct answers about Lily’s challenges, determined to keep the focus on fun. After all, I wanted us all to feel normal and happy in that sunny park.
With the girl’s mom nowhere in sight, I scanned the area and finally spotted a young babysitter glued to her phone, glancing up occasionally to check on the girl before returning to her screen. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. Of course, the babysitter needed a break from the girl’s endless questions. I knew I was on my own.
As Lily and I climbed the steps to the tower again, the girl was right beside me. “It sure takes her a long time to get up there,” she commented. At that moment, I glanced back at her and, out of earshot from Lily, growled, “Go. Play.”
“Huh?” the girl exclaimed, taken aback.
“Go. Play. Somewhere. Else.” I made sure to emphasize each word, lowering my voice for effect. And just like that, poof! She was gone.
At dinner, we chatted about our park adventure. “That little girl…” Lily began slowly.
“She was following you,” Mia interjected.
“She was annoying me,” Lily said with a laugh, rolling her eyes dramatically.
I couldn’t help but think back to the golden-haired girl, who dashed across the park with such ease, muscles strong and legs pumping fast. I remembered how she climbed to the highest tower in no time, standing like a princess, looking down at all of us.
With a twinge of sympathy in my heart, I said, “I feel the same way, Lily. She was annoying me too.”