Spencer was EIGHT now. Because of this, he liked to tell himself (and everyone else within in 200 foot radius, if possible) that he was practically a grown-up and definitely not a little kid anymore, and that that meant he could go where he wanted, whenever he wanted, and without an adult with him and definitely without having his hand held all the time.

Except his dad was always doing that anyway. Making him stay right beside him whenever they went out, and always being like, 'Don't do THIS, Spencer', 'Don't do THAT, Spencer', 'You're GROUNDED, Spencer', and 'For the love of Merlin, Spencer, if you keep playing up in public I'll put a Permanent Sticking Charm on your backside and sit you at the kitchen table while I go out and get some peace and quiet.' (That last one was the funniest because he knew full well that his dad would never do something like that because then he'd have to deal with Spencer PERMANENTLY sat at the kitchen table and then he would never have to go to school again and he knew full well that his dad fully appreciated those hours of the day. Also, the kitchen table was where his dad liked to write, and he wasn't really supposed to go anywhere near it most of the time anyway.)

Spencer probably ended up grounded more than anyone else in school, or at least anyone else in his year, and definitely all the people in his swimming lessons, and THAT made him really really cool. It seemed like the cool kids were the ones that found themselves in (read: actively sought out) trouble all the time, and the fact that Spencer had noticed this had been the cause of many of his dad's grey hairs. Being cool was the BEST, and SPENCER had NO PLANS of losing that reputation (which, by the way, would absolutely happen if the kids at school found out that part of being grounded also meant he had to hold hands whenever he left the house, like a baby, like it was his fault he tended to scarper and accidentally (read: not at all accidentally) get into more trouble).

ANYWAY, those with good powers of observation would today notice that Spencer had appeared without Mr. Muldoon in tow. Because he was eight! Old enough to go anywhere! Certainly not because he had made his great escape while his dad was busy talking to a boring someone about boring things in a boring shop!

(Unbeknownst to Spencer, his father Kenrick knew perfectly well what his son was up to and where he was going - having tailed him for long enough to ascertain just that - and had decided to just let him get on with it. The Playground's charms would let him know if the boy wandered again, and even though the little so-and-so wasn't supposed to be having fun, it at least got him out of his hair for a few minutes. Peace and quiet indeed; parenting at its finest.)

So, now he needed to get in as much playtime as he could, and pronto. Because even though being eight years old meant practically being a grown-up and not being a kid, it did NOT mean he had to give up his toys and the playground and also pudding like his dad kept telling him. Spencer wasn't a fool.

There were already people at the playground, but Spencer supposed he could share, especially considering he knew at least two of them.

"REGINA! ALEJANDRO!" he bellowed to the De La Garza siblings as he entered the area, effectively announcing his arrival and interrupting their game and conversation without apology. Eyeing up a free swing - which was, of course, the best part of any playground - near Regina, Spencer leapt up onto it with both feet on the seat, held onto the chains either side and starting to swing while stood on it. "I'm a very important perthon," he added in a half-joking manner as he did so, having caught just enough of their conversation to not have understood any of it at all. His accent was thick: a right little London boy.

"'Oo're you?" This was directed towards the other girl, the one he didn't know yet. "Wot'th your name?"