Yesterday I took Vinny to the park to play. It was getting quite late; the sun had set and the sky was darkening. This park to which I took him is behind the public library, off away from prying eyes from the street, but next to the police station. As part of his customary patrol, I assume, a police officer was doing his rounds in the library parking lot. Vincent had pooped his pants while standing atop the slide, and I was leading him back to our car for a quick change.
As anyone with a 2-year-old knows, you can take the boy away from the park but you can't take the park from the boy. He was not happy, and he was making sure everyone knew it.
Well, we have a Toyota Highlander, and most of the time I use the back as a platform for emergency diaper changing. The police officer circled around the parking lot as I approached my car, eyeing me and my unhappy son.
I guess he was quite surprised when I threw open the back door of the SUV and put Vincent in. He came to a stop not fifty feet from me, and watched me like a hawk.
It took a few minutes to change Vinny, and all the while the cop never took his eyes off me.
When we were finished, I had Vincent stand up, he jumped down from the back, and I led him to his car seat and he climbed in. By the time I had buckled him in and returned to shut the back door, the cop had pulled around and was slowly driving past.
I looked at him, smiled, and held up the poopie mess. "Diaper," I said. He smiled, nodded, and drove off.
Thank you, Mr. policeman, for watching out for my kid. Your protective services are appreciated more than you'll ever know.
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