I've been scoping out nearby playgrounds; found a good one today not far from the house. A good central structure for climbing and exploring; a decent slide; lots of spongy material underfoot; clean-looking sandboxes; and a set of swings small enough and protective enough for any baby who can hold his head up--my baby, at 5 months, just barely qualifies. Nevertheless, he woke up from his stroller nap and soon found himself sitting in this mysterious rubber device, swaying slowly back and forth; a tentative smile broke out on his face after maybe a minute.
The small playground was well-populated with babies, toddlers, older kids and moms; the moms were camped out in what few shady spots could be found and were chatting with each other in groups of two and three. Something almost absurdly human about the sight of moms talking to each other in playgrounds as they keep one eye on their kids. Absurd, because who takes the time to talk to strangers any more, anyway? But one mom is almost never a total stranger to another mom. And if that sounds a bit like a cult, well--motherhood is a bit like that, sometimes. I don't know if I totally approve--but nobody cares whether I do or not: the cult of motherhood will endure with or without anyone's protest.
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