The little boy was told to stay, as if he were a dog. And at his age, it seemed a fair assessment, of his training. He did stay and waited for his mother to come back.
Instead his father came back. He looked disheveled, tired. A bit miffed.
He took the boys hand and led him into the park. The little boy couldn’t resist running through the field, toward the swings, the father following, then hoisting his son up on the saddle, pushing slowly then more and more until the the child swung as high as the father thought appropriate.
His mother arrived a couple of hours later. She complained about the chocolate ice cream on his shirt. The father complained about how long she took for her appointment. The boy stayed, without being asked by either parent.