I took the kids to a local destination playground yesterday. We call it Chutes & Ladders but that’s not its real name.

I used to hate Chutes & Ladders. I lost my oldest there when he was maybe four years old, and he was missing long enough that I was considering calling the police. On another visit to this same playground a kind woman returned my youngest to me after she had found him stuck and crying in some corner of some structure.

It is a terrible playground for two little kids, but a great playground for big kids. My big kids ran off and I settled on a bench with my book.

Now that I no longer have to constantly supervise my children, I have more time to discreetly listen to the people around me.

Behind me a group of fashionable, young stay-at-home moms was chatting about how nice it was that there were no daycare or camp groups here today and how those big groups always ruin this playground. The way they discussed it made it clear that they did not think that children of working parents should be able to use nice playgrounds and that these playgrounds should be reserved in the summer for stay-at-home parents and their blessed progeny. It gave me pause because I’m certainly guilty of being deeply annoyed when I’ve pulled into the parking lot of the pool and seen the big yellow school bus full of kids in matching neon green shirts pull in right behind me.

When does annoyance cross the line into entitlement? I will have to think about this.

A mom with three smaller kids (6yo, 4yo, toddler) in tow arrived and took the bench next to me. She announced that everyone needed sunscreen before they could go play. This resulted in an immediate screaming tantrum from the 4yo who wanted to put the sunscreen on herself but was not allowed to.

“You have three seconds to stop screaming! Three seconds!” the mom kept yelling at her middle child while she applied sunscreen to the oldest and youngest.

The 4yo did not stop screaming, and the mom changed tactics.

“You’re going to get SPANKED if you don’t stop it right now!” she whisper-yelled at her daughter. “Do you want to get SPANKED in front of all these people?!”

This also did not work and the 4yo continued to scream.

“Okay, that’s it, you’re just going to have to sit in the car! Come on, we’re going to go sit in the car!” she shouted. “Darren!” she called to her oldest child. “You have to watch Carrie now because Lydia and I have to go sit in the car because she won’t stop screaming!”

Now, I overheard this entire thing and was very unconcerned right up until the mom announced she was putting the 6yo in charge of the toddler. Here?! At this massive playground?! This was when I started paying attention. Maybe I should try to keep an eye on this little toddler if the mom really was planning to sit in the car with the screaming 4yo.

It turns out there is a reason the 4yo kept wailing and screaming without regard for her mother’s reprimands: the mom followed up on exactly 0 of her threats. I think the 4yo even ended up avoiding sunscreen completely. Well played, 4yo, well played.

On the other side of me was a grandma who was there at the playground with her two very little granddaughters. This poor grandma was up and down and up and down the entire time. She clearly just wanted to sit. She seemed exhausted. I wondered if she was doing full-time childcare all summer long. Or all year long?

I used to run into grandparents doing full-time childcare all the time back when I was doing full-time childcare all the time myself. They always seemed very tired, and most of them didn’t seem like they were enjoying themselves very much. I wondered how many of them regretted volunteering for this gig but then couldn’t seem to find a way to back out of it once they were committed.

I am personally committed to never providing full-time childcare for anybody ever again. Fill-in childcare, because daycare is closed for two days? Sure. Weekend childcare because mom and dad need a goddamn break? Yes, absolutely. Full-time? Never. Absolutely not. I have been there, I have done that, and now I read books in the shade at Chutes & Ladders and listen to other people’s conversations.

“Ugh, Mom, can we go soon?” my oldest said, interrupting my thoughts. “Some camp group just got here and it’s too crowded now.” I looked up and saw a sea of neon pink shirts flowing into all corners of the playground.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I said.