Tired of waiting at the park?

So, the other day, it was getting to be time to leave the park. Ziad had taken his shoes off, scattered sand toys all over the sand area, and was deep in a game of tag on the climbing structure. I somehow extricated him, then got distracted myself as I made my way to the exit. When I got myself back into leaving mode, he was playing tag again. Which would be OK, except that he hadn't done anything about getting his stuff the first time I started to leave. Which made me mad. So I said to him, "I'm going home. If you can your stuff and get to the car by the time I leave, I'll give you a ride."

Which, surprisingly, lit a fire under him. (I mean, did he really think I was going to leave him at the park?) It was a long walk from the play are to the parking lot, so I knew he would be more than able to get his stuff and get to the car about the same time I did. I don't walk all that fast these days, and I certainly wasn't setting my fastest pace.

As Ziad comes panting up to the car, we see a mom back at the play area calling him. We realize he has his sand toys, all right, but does he have his shoes? No. So I had him stow his toys in the car and run back for the shoes, while I pulled out of the parking place and pulled up to the curb of the park entrance. A few days later I heard from another mom that as he ran back for his shoes, the look of fear on his face was striking.

I think I'm an excellent candidate for mean mom of the year.