Letting plans change

We’re having an unseasonably warm fall day, dropped arbitrarily into the middle of an increasingly chilly month. The kids are scuffing through the fallen leaves in their summer shorts and t-shirts. It’s not hot, just warm; but they’re happy to have one last visit with summer, especially now that we’ve already had our first frost and a taste of the cold weather that will prevail for the next several months.

Because I was at an afternoon appointment with Tim, Rick brought Holly to the ball field for his and Tim’s early-evening baseball practice; my plan was to meet them there, drop off Tim, retrieve Holly and head straight home. But Holly took one look at the jungle gym and squealed, “Can we stay and play?”

“No, we need to get home,” I automatically responded, thinking of the load of laundry that needed to be transferred from the washer into the dryer and the fact that I hadn’t checked my e-mail in four hours.

“Just for a few minutes?” Holly asked, and when I acquiesced, she was already running toward the playground. Watching her little legs churn across the grass, I reminded myself that this is important too: not just having fun but taking advantage of another chance to play outdoors. My kids are not great about getting exercise once cold weather hits; in a few more weeks I’ll be hungry for the sight of her legs sprinting across the grass. So it only makes sense to let it happen now while she’s willing.

And that reminds me again that it’s important not to rush when you don’t have to: to stop and enjoy the playground when time and weather permit. No one will need any of the items in the washing machine before tomorrow morning. And anyone who urgently needed anything from me or had any really important news would call my cell phone, not wait for me to check e-mail. We might not get back to this playground for another six months; why not take Holly’s lead and just have some fun while we can?

Besides, it’s not like I couldn’t use the time productively. In the car were my laptop, a library book, and four weeks’ worth of Sunday newspapers. At the age of 7, Holly doesn’t expect me to follow her around the playground or push her on the swings. When the kids were much smaller, I wouldn’t sit and write at a playground; I’d help and play and stay focused on them. But that’s the beauty of a 7-year old: she can slide, pump, climb on her own. And although sometimes it’s worthwhile for me to be part of the playing, other times it’s nice to just enjoy the fact that I don’t have to.

So we stayed. Holly played and ran around; I got some writing done. Soon enough, the weather will turn consistently chilly and we’ll miss the playground. It’s so easy to answer reflexively: “No, we can’t take extra time; we have lots to do; let’s go home.” But it’s important to override that urge once in a while. I’m glad that on this particular afternoon, I was able to let fun prevail over duty.