Noah stayed home from KG today, we weren’t really feeling it, and when the lads are playing? Together? And no one is crying? You don’t mess with that. So later in the afternoon, following a wholesome and creative morning (they played, I was saving the world, one room at a time), we headed for our closest playground, the one with the trees. The trees that provide shade. We love the shade! Because, egad, we hate heat! Just me actually, but I like to think I represent future heat-haters in my sons. Which will be one more thing I fail at in parenting.
So. Noah took his bike, there’s a wee hill OF DEATH that he wanted to practice on. Practice what, I’m not sure. Prep for later, much later, when I’ll get a phone call with him going,” Hey Ma! Gabes and I are on a plane RIGHT NOW, and we’re going to jump out of it! Isn’t that rad?” (Did my use of “rad” age me just then? I feel it may have.) Anyway, I’m hauling the damn bike up the wee hill because it’s too steep for him to do it and he’d so been looking forward to this. Our usual guideline is “If you can’t do it yourself… tough, better wait till you’re older”. Like climbing on stuff. If he can’t get up there himself, I’m sure as shit not standing behind him and lifting him up and whatnot. But not this time, because the light in his eyes (the one that dimmed as soon as we were on top of the hill and he saw just how steep it was) convinced me for a sec. So I’m holding child and bike and trying to figure this out when I look over, way waaaay far away, like 30 meters, and I see Lil G, the one I was so relieved to not have to watch so carefully, cause what could possibly happen here at this playground? Nothing!, well, that same child was already nearly at the top of the ladder of a tower, high enough that if he got distracted by something, like a dust mite (trust me, it happens all the time, he gets it from m… oooh! Something shiny!), then he would fall and break something. Or bump his head. Whatever. So I quickly walk bike and larger child to the bottom, drop them, kick off shoes and take off across the playground (I was going to insert a picture of a superhero flying here, but then I looked at the images and was nauseated. The entire concept of “Supermom” makes me ill. So no flying picture here, just imagine me running really really fast) to do that horrible hovering thing that I hate. And he got to the top no probs, then ran to the other side of the tower and catapulted himself down the slide. Squealing with delight.
The extra weight will be gone in no time.