Come and Sit a Spell

Sanderson Park is pretty much across the street from my house. My kidlets always referred to it as Xanderson Park.  

Last year the city removed the playground equipment from many of the small lesser used parks and totally updated most of the rest of them. Xanderson Park was one of the updated ones. It was so exciting when the old equipment was removed. It was a few weeks before the new equipment arrived and the kids and I did lots of speculating about what it would be like.  

"I hope they rename it," suggested six-year-old Maeve. "It's been Xanderson for long enough. It should be renamed 'Maeverson Park'."  And alas it has been called Maeverson Park to us ever since.  

Just this last couple of weeks I have started letting the kids cross the street and go to the park by themselves. Xander has been old enough for a while, but I figure at the mature old age of seven, it was time Maeve be allowed the exciting responsibility of venturing out on her own. 

Yesterday, as I was making supper I sent the kids to the park to play for a bit.  After a short time X comes running back into the house, "I have a question!" 

His mom responds, "Did you leave your little sister there on her own?"

"I'm going back. But I have a question," he retorts. "Granny when did you get the bench?" 

"The bench?" I ask, thinking he is talking about the outdoor bench on my deck that I have had for years but recovered a couple of weeks ago. 

"Yeah, Papa's bench." 

A bantering conversation of confusion ensued. And he assured me there was a bench at the park that said it was Papa's bench. 

"Does it say "Papa" or does it say "Albert Ziemer?" 

"Both," he replied. "And Aziph."  

Jade and I left the potatoes boiling on the stove and followed the excited young man back to the park. 

And sure enough, Maeverson Park is now home to Papa's Bench.  Complete with his little goatee icon that he used to sign all his email and texts with. 

We did a bit of CSI work and investigative deductions to determine that it must have been donated by someone close to Papa, who was familiar with his nickname and signature icon. 

And sure enough our first suspects were the responsible party.  And I managed to get back home before the potatoes boiled dry.  Can't say as much for our eyes though. 

Maeve wears Papa's "Maui hat" pretty much every day. 

I will make a point to sweep the sand off the platform and wash the bird poop off the bench at some point this weekend. 

Papa. Albert. Aziph. And the little goatee icon.  Iconic.