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Does She Always Get Her Way? by Carol Wells

A common refrain that surrounds a baby of the family is "S/He always get their way!" One week-end though ...

40-minutes from my daughters' hometown is a city park they love visiting. It is a typical small community park offering people amenities such as a playground and grills with the setting completed by a small creek cutting through one edge.

When Frank and I became a couple, the girls felt it was an automatic requirement that he visit Falls Park. "Its name, supposedly, derived from the crick* having two small waterfalls, " I informed him one weekend while driving toward to Pendleton, Indiana.

"So there's lots of ducks," my third child chimed in.

"And a really nice playground," my oldest child shared.

"Don't forget The Hanging Tree," piped up the second born child. "This one guy told us that it wasn't the actual tree where some guys were hung long time ago. It was cut down so they call this other tree The Hanging Tree."

Trivia like this impressed Frank . . . not! Ducks, dinky waterfalls, fake historical landmarks, and a playground unlikely items that a 40-something year old male looked for in a park.

My daughters were about ready to burst with excitement by the time we parked. Frank cautiously looked around while getting out of the car. "Not a bad looking park," he commented finally.

"Told you that you would like it," my third child smiled before scampering off toward the swing set.

"So they allow fishing here," he commented while looking at the small group of people along one section of the water's banks a few feet away from where we stood.

"Technically no; there are signs saying fishing or swimming is not allowed but we are Hoosiers; signs, schmigns. Fishing somewhat tolerated but swimming definitely not allowed."

Frank did not comment about that information before strolling toward the playground as the children wanted to show off for him. After a while, the ducks made it clear they wanted to take over the playground, which was all right, as the girls claimed they wanted to go wading. Frank and I strolled along the bank while the girls raced ahead to the shallow point. He stopped while shaking his head, "You are going to let them play in there?"

"As long as they wade, and not sit, in the water it's ok," I assured him again.

"But . . ." he paused and shook his head. "It is called Falls Park for a 10 inch tall waterfall surrounded by terrorizing ducks. People fish here although a sign state fishing is illegal while enforcing the no swimming rule but wading is ok. I don't get it."

"Get what?"

He pointed to the middle of the creek. "Another sign states the local health department claims this water isn't safe. As if I would want to eat fish that someone caught here? Oh, oh! Can I go wading in a contaminated creek ... please?"

"Sure," I replied while watching the girls splashing and laughing in the water. "Go right ahead."

Frank left Falls Park unimpressed. Whenever someone suggested visiting Falls Park he would quickly reply, "maybe another time, but not today."

One weekend my youngest daughter had her heart set on going to Falls Park. It seemed she could not say a sentence without somehow mentioning this park.

Frank stalled. She remained persistent. Frank continued stalling. Suddenly there was a freak storm. I do not think there was a happier man in the state of Indiana that day as he pointed to the window, "Sorry, no Falls Park today!"

She tried to argue that we could still have some fun at the park. Frank looked at her incredulously, "In a thunderstorm?"

She nodded her head. "So we would get a little wet; no big deal." Yes, she truly wanted to go to Falls Park that day. Frank pointing out that a thunderstorm made that idea unsafe had the child sulking for the rest of the afternoon.

As can happen sometimes, when siblings are together under the same roof, an argument occurred. "You always get your way," the second born child claimed. "Just because you're the baby!"

"No, I don't," the sulking child retorted.

"Oh yes you do," the second born insisted. "Ask anyone!"

My other two girls silently nodded their heads in agreement with this statement having the youngest come to me with tear-filled eyes. "Mom, I don't always get my way, do I."

"Well, you may come ahead on some things but I don't think you always get your way," I replied while ruffling her hair.

"How can you say that, Mom! She does too always get her way," my second born planted her hands on hips.

"No, she does not," Frank said, having all four children look at him in surprise. I do not know if they were so engrossed in their argument to remember he existed or shocked that he joined in.

"No, I don't," she stamped a foot for emphasis as she grasped Frank's silent message when he pointed to the window. "If I did then we would be at Falls Park right now."

"Well she has a point," my oldest said while turning her attention back to the book she had been reading. The second born lost the argument - thanks to a freak thunderstorm (which helped Frank get his way).

* In parts of Indiana it is not uncommon for the residents to refer to a creek as "crick". Even James Whitcomb Riley, a central Indiana poet, was not shy about using Indiana, or mid-western, lingo.

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