last night marked our first return in three years to the familiar smell of rendezvous barbecue nachos and happy tunes such as “walking in memphis” playing between innings.

rendezvous bbq nachos

but this time, instead of heading to our old seats behind home plate, we packed up the monkey and bird and headed to the kid-friendly bluff.

image from the commercial appeal

the kids assumed normal outdoor family event behavior as they wandered from blanket to blanket, pilfered food from strangers, danced and clapped to music, and required andy and me to thwart their repeated efforts to toddle off into the sunset. there were, however, two incidents involving the almost-four-year-old-monkey that gave me a reluctant glimpse into my future.

the first involved a ride that essentially looked like this:

it broke my heart that the monkey wanted to ride this thing. i just knew he would get to the top, become overwhelmed and terrified, and have to endure complete and utter hell until the ride’s end. but i managed to quiet my over-protective mom voice long enough to load him onto the pleather bench with several kids who were twice his age.

he LOVED the ride, and this broke my heart even more. he’s getting so big, and he has such a high tolerance for things that others perceive to be dangerous and scary. when this child turns 16, i think i’ll just take up residence in some sort of home for chronic worriers.

the second bit of parenting insight gained at the redbirds game pertained to the monkey’s constant refrain that went like this:

“mommy… daddy… i WAAAANNT one of those pointy fingers!!!”

i responded to this request by explaining that if we purchased a “pointy finger,” we would not have enough money to buy our dinner. this seemed to make sense to him for an entire 15 minutes, and our whole family enjoyed a much-needed respite from the onslaught of monkey melancholy.

then, out of nowhere, the monkey stood before us and presented his case. he said that he would gladly go without food for the evening in order to allocate our resources toward the purchase of one pointy finger. he proceeded to suggest that his hunger could be satiated by foods from home that have been previously paid for.

after andy and i stopped laughing hysterically long enough to come up with a game plan, we told the monkey that we’d buy a pointy finger on the way out *IF* he could manage to stop the begging and negotiating madness.

look who left with a pointy finger:

i cannot say that last night’s parenting decisions were stellar. we were taken off guard. we were not ready for the inevitable stage in children’s lives that involves desperately needing to purchase bits of junk in every possible venue. next time we’ll have our wits about us. there will be a plan in place. there will be pre-event conversations with the monkey about realistic expectations.

i am beginning to see that the older my firstborn gets, the more humility this parenting thing requires and generates. parenting is not for wimps, and parenting in public places requires complete submission to fits of embarrassment.

i can tell you this much: next time i see a mom giving in to her negotiating and fit-pitching child, i will not be pointing any fingers.