From the bench, they could see the children littering.
Candy wrappers were undone, divested of their contents, and discarded in quick succession. Sticks that had proffered sugary baubles dropped into the grass like tiny javelins. One particularly betrayed looking whelp discovered that their baked goods had lured them in with the promise of chocolate only to reward them with dried fruit, and subsequently the stack was dashed against the dirt in a violent rage.
Lumbering upon the scene like a tiny Father Christmas came a boy with a bulging sack over his shoulder. With a triumphant shout, he began to shake the sack over his head, emptying its contents all over the grass, while also spilling more than a bit onto himself. From his smile, the roar of approval from the group was worth it.
Watching this, his mother shook her head.
“I’ll never understand what he gets out of that,” she said fondly.
“No?” Her companion asked. “I think it’s just that everything’s a novelty to them. Look.”
The children had stopped their gorging and cheering to crowd around the trash pile, some even getting on the ground to observe it better, as the strands of grass began to stretch and wrap themselves around the litter. Observing from afar, a ranger’s watch buzzed with a query that was quickly approved.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” The boy's mother wondered. “To enjoy something as simple as watching the grass eat?”