When I tell people about where we live, one of the first things I comment on is how close we live to Prospect Park. New York City has beautiful parks, and we are very lucky to be able to frequent the Central Park of Brooklyn nearly every day. As grateful as I am, I also have a worry.

Monday I called John as we were leaving the playground.

“I was just thinking about you guys,” he said when he answered. “I was wondering what you were up to.”

My answer, that I had just cleaned what I believed to be squirrel poop off our stroller, was not what he expected. Funny to him. Not so funny to me. Okay, a little bit funny to me.

The squirrels at our park are crazy. They jump into the playground, onto strollers, looking for food. I’m not sure how much we, as parents, can do. The population of this particular playground is just learning to eat, so even if snacks are well concealed, once a child starts to consume them, there is inevitably a mess. The result is that these squirrels are the size of terriers (perhaps I’m exaggerating just a little . . . terrier puppies, maybe) and fearless.

This week was not the first time that I had to scare a squirrel or two away from our stroller. It was the first time that I heard an even more incredible story—one that makes me fear for the future of New York City.

A father on the playground said a squirrel had unzipped his diaper bag, which he now wore on his person to protect it, removed a Tupperware of snacks and carried it halfway up a tree. He had to run out of the gated playground and chase the squirrel to get it back.

I don’t know what to do about it, but one thing is for sure: the future of Brooklyn is at stake.