Subscribe to RSSSwings, a Fun Time or a Method of Delivery
It began like any other day….up at 7am, toons and coffee until the entire sun rises. Then, because it was a nice day outside we geared up for a morning walk/ride/pull/carry what have you. Sunshine and fresh air, what could possibly go wrong?
At the time, my daughter Stella was 18 months, and my son Gage was 2 1/2. These ages are a very difficult time. The little tikes are often too big for baby stuff and too small for toddler things…stuck in a strange and frustrating middle.
Stella, being too small to ride a bike and too big to carry, opted for the tricycle that I could push via a long handle attached. Gage then talked me in to pulling him on a miniature plastic four-wheeler via a rope he’d tied to the handle bars. Writing this now, this all started out as a bad idea.
So off we go, me pushing Stella on the trike with one hand and pulling Gage on the four-wheeler with the other. We made it to the park with little consequence, aside from the professional maneuvering around the corners and on and off sidewalks that it took to get them there.
Then the swings…
Stella LOVES to swing. But of course, these swings weren’t the completely enclosed baby swings with the leg holes that she is safe in. These only have a back to them and free-fall out the front.
Gage is big enough to sit and hold on himself but again, too small to swing himself, thus requiring lots of assistance.
Ok, put Stella down and put Gage in the swing.
Wrong. Stella screaming…. “I wing!, I wing!”
Ok, hold Stella and lift Gage into the swing.
Wrong. Can’t do both, not an easy job.
Ok, put Stella in the swing…just set her there, just for a MINUTE until I get Gage in. Then I can push Gage real quick and hold on to Stella.
WRONG. That lasts for about two seconds. She face-plants into the rock hard dirt below (not far below, but below.)
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” I scream.
“WWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!” Stella cries.
“MOMMY, STELLA FELL!” Gage yells.
Terrible situation is amplified by small pebble stuck up small girls even smaller nostril.
OK, I’ve seen this on ‘ER’…Trying to remember…Trying to remember.
Trying to pick the rock out with my finger up her nose.
Wrong, rock goes up further.
Trying to have her blow it out.
Wrong, she has no idea what I mean, and can’t hear me over her screams.
Ok, putting my mouth over her nose and sucking as hard as I can while hoping the neighbors aren’t watching out their kitchen window.
BINGO!
Crying gets quieter but is yet to subside. It’s been a traumatic swinging experience.
Ok, now to make it four blocks home.
Putting Stella back on the bike to push her home.
Wrong…screaming amplifies a zillion decibels.
Ok, I look at Gage. “Gage, I have to carry Stella home and push the bike so you’re going to have to pull your four-wheeler home for me ok?”
That lasts about half a block.
Gage crying, “Mommy I CANN’TT pull it anymoreeee!”
Ignore him and keep walking, he can do it. There is no other option.
He continues to follow but at a slower pace. Stella still crying, I’m still pushing the bike. Three and a half blocks to go…
A minute later.
“MOMMY I CAN’T PULL IT ANYMORE!”
Prod him, urge him on. “Come on Gage, you’re doing so great, you’re such a good boy!”
The psychology is not working.
“MOMMY!!”
He’s now laying in someones yard, four wheeler beside him.
“Gage, get up and walk!”
He gets up, pulls the four-wheeler into the middle of the road and lays down.
Now we’re all crying. Please nobody call the authorities.
“Come on Megan, you can make it.. Come on Megan, you can make it.”
The psychology is not working…
What a great day for a walk.
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