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Wednesday
Aug312005

A Stroll in the Park

A stroll in the park; it sounds nice, doesn’t it? It connotes a pleasant, relaxing experience.

And that’s what it once was. Fondly I look upon those days when I would buckle The Toddler into the stroller and head out onto the neighborhood sidewalks on a nice, sunny day, stopping at a park along the way.

In all other categories of parenting Mommy was No. 1. But stroller rides to the park, well, that’s where Daddy ruled.

I would strut like a king, head held high, nodding at passersby with glowing pride in my eyes. Me, my son, the open air – this, I thought, was what fatherhood was all about. Sure there would still be nasty diapers, midnight awakenings and tantrums to contend with. But bonding times like these, between me and my son, made being a father, well, significant. When it came time for stroller rides, in The Toddler’s world, I wasn’t just playing second fiddle to Mommy.

But then one day I began to really look at the other strollers around us and it hit me like a left hook to the jaw. Ours, in comparison, appeared worn and old, like it was ready for the scrap heap. Like a dated car, it even had a partially scraped off political bumper sticker on it and a seat cushion that kept slipping off. It looked, well, inferior.

There were all these new luxury models out on the sidewalks that were, both literally and figuratively, passing us by. I began to suffer from a severe case of stroller envy.

The Toddler was riding in the Pinto of strollers compared to the Ferraris out there now. Truth be told, the stroller, to me, had become an embarrassment. I was ashamed to even take it out of the garage, let alone pushing it and having my son be seen in it.

That’s when I knew my son had grown up. That once brand-new stroller was now a little over two years old, just like my son.

The Toddler didn’t really need that stroller any more. He could walk on his own two feet.

And that’s what we do now. We walk, hand-in-hand, to the park. Occasionally he says, “Up-up,” meaning “Pick me up, Daddy. My legs are smaller than yours and get tired pretty quickly.”

We still have that 2003 model stroller. Mostly it sits in the garage now, taking up space. And holding a part of my son that he’s walked away from.

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