I Heart Playhosen

Upon arrival in Vienna, Gabe, Jude and I set out to explore the local park circuit and acclimate ourselves to the general lay of the land. During one of these early walks, I was confused and slightly disturbed to see a little boy in what appeared to be rubber overalls in the late August heat. Now the Viennese take the cold seriously and it is not uncommon to see babies fully bundled in a hat and warm jacket on a 55 degree day, but this was a little much even by local standards. Did this small child have a part-time gig as a Lobsterman? Maybe his parents had confused the forecast and were simply awaiting an impending thunderstorm despite an abundance of sunshine. I whispered to Gabe... "Check out that kid over there. The one with the crazy plastic pants." Fascinated, I filed the experience under "Weird Austria Stuff" along with the coffee shop that sells espresso machines, lacy underwear, and Lederhosen.

However, the more time I spent at the park, I noticed this was not a one-off; a silly, overprotective parent using make shift rain gear as playground covering. I watched as mammas and nannies, entire daycare centers in fact, dressed the toddling boys and girls in these plastic playground condoms upon entrance to the park. "Doesn't this go against everything be a kid is about?" I thought to myself. "Kids get dirty. It is what they do." You could hermetically seal Jude in a plastic bubble and he would still manage to come out with a mixture of slobber, food, and grass stains all over his clothing.

But the tightly wound, ultra-type A side of me, the one that knew she was headed to therapy after watching her crawling son slowly draw his arms and legs across filthy public surface after filthy public surface for several months, was secretly coveting this magnificent invention of anal retentive playgear.

I scoured the internet to no avail, Nothing but rainwear. Amazon.de turned up blank when I searched for "kids rubber overalls." I was on the hunt, still afraid to simply ask another parkgoer where her child got those lovely playground pants. I wanted to blend in with the local flora and fauna. I was hip to the ins and outs of parenting in Vienna. I knew that if every kid at the park was wearing them, they had to turn up sooner or later.

So.... they did. Jude has playhose...I admit it. And I love them. I remarked to Gabe the other day that they may just be the best thing we bring back to the States with us when we return. Forget handcrafted wooded toys. These rock! While I feel like a traitor to all that is wonderful about being a baby at the park, I rationalize that Jude can still can get dirty with his playhose on. In fact he can get even dirtier. No need to brush off his pants when he is wearing playhose.

Wallow away my little love, you will be the envy of all the excessive, hovering mothers of the U.S.A.