(This post begins a series from Sharon, who will be sharing stories from the Wallingford Playfield playground.)
The first time we really noticed Wallingford Playfield was when I was pregnant with our son. We were taking our nightly hour-long walk, as many first-time expectant parents do, when we stumbled upon it. Sometime since our last tennis match there the play structure had been updated or perhaps even disassembled and replaced with a much newer model. We marveled at the multi-leveled towers, the various climbing apparatuses but were impressed most by the squishy blue material the whole thing sat on.
Back when I was a kid, the playground equipment seemed a little more Mad Max. We had a climbing structure made out of old tires nailed to wood posts and some kind of left over construction parts to crawl around in. I remember doing cherry drops, or was it penny drops (aka, upside down flips off the bars – no hands) as my head hovered just inches above rock hard concrete. Couple that with non-organic food, homemade Halloween treats, BPA-full plastic and cigarette smoke everywhere and you start to wonder how we ever made it to adulthood in one piece.
Since then, our relationship with the playground has grown. I think it’s officially called Wallingford Playfield but our son begs to differ. He, in his most authoritative voice, calls it Wallingford Park. We know better than to argue with a three and a half year old, especially one that has been to the park over 1,000 times and counting. I calculated the number quite conservatively – based on going there 5 days a week and adding a little extra for the daily doubles (and sometimes triples) we’ve pulled.
I can’t say that I’ve loved every trip to the park. Most of the time it’s great but we‘ve also had our share of owies, potty accidents, meltdowns (particularly when having to leave) and your plain ho-hum days. Plus, any place that you go nearly every day has to lose its luster sometime. Still, those things can’t hold a candle to watching your kid go down the slide alone for the first time, hearing him squeal for underdog for the hundredth time, or seeing the look of pure joy on his face as he jumps and falls into lakes of muddy delight on “puddle run” that spans the east end of the track. Ah yes, we love Wallingford Park – the center of our little universe.
I remember when my husband and I were looking at buying our house on Ashworth, a block and a half from the park, we thought, off-handedly, “hmm, a park, that’s a nice plus to the neighborhood.” At the time we had a one and a half year old and another one on the way. Now, eight and a half years later, I can’t tell you how important the park has been to us. We’ve outgrown the wading pool and the play structure, but we still go there to kick the ball around or practice bike riding or have a picnic. And I love going up there on beautiful fall Saturdays to watch my son play soccer and see all my friends.
captures the attachment many parents of young children have to our nearest neighborhood park, where our children experience many firsts and moments of joy. The park becomes an extension of our living place, and we take it for granted and sometimes have a love/hate/indifferent relationship with it, the same way we do the four walls of our home. Thanks for making me see W.P. and my own neighborhood park with fresh eyes. Look forward to future installments.
we love our neighborhood park. i love to go and let the kids run in the huge field attached to the park–as far and as fast as they can possibly go–and i’m hoping they can get ALL of their energy out…especially at the end of a day. where else can they have the freedom to run without ANY restrictions…cars to watch out for, items in the store to be careful of, etc…? it’s great to have our neighborhood parks–outdoor, open spaces–extensions of our own backyards…here in seattle!