Playground Sad

When I asked Yali if he was ready to leave the playground that afternoon, he shook his head “no”, emphatically.

“Why not, Yali?”

He looked carefully at me. “Playground. Sad. Cars. Smoosh!”

I gathered from the gesticulations of his hands, and reading between the lines, that the playground would be sad if we left it, and that if he walked across the parking lot to leave, a car would smoosh him.

“Is that what you’re saying, Yali?”

“Mm-hmm!”

Puck’s Monthly What-do-You-Want-to-be-When-You-Grow-Up Status:

“Don’t know.”