Not only do I believe in them, I live by them. This afternoon, in an effort to get sonny-boy out of the house so Mommy could get some things ready for his party tomorrow we headed over to his favorite playground (among other errands and such). Just as I was being spun around in a spinning chair on a post that resembles a flower and feels like a medieval torture device… OK, I know what you’re thinking. It’s not like that. My daughter really wanted to spin me. She’s my baby girl. I can’t say no to that. Anyway, I start spinning and look over about five feet from my vantage just in time to see my son’s body drop out of the sky. I’m a worryer when it comes to my kids’ safety. Sometimes my wife mocks me for this. But I’d rather have them sheltered and alive than otherwise. Actually, I’m not sure if I heard the “thud” first. No, I distinctly remember seeing the falling body. I jumped up and ran to my son who was, by now, screaming. I don’t blame him. My first instinct was to think that every bone in his body was shattered.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Are you OK?!?!?!
Well, as it turns out, he had climbed to the top of a fake rock wall that ends in a platform about 8 feet off the ground. The ground is covered in wood chips which is some sick way of trying to reassure nervous parents like me that any kind of impact will be soft. It’s a lie. If you’d heard what I heard when he landed you would have whinced. But, miracle of miracles, he barely had a scratch on him. He was dazed, yes. He says he slipped because his shoes were ill-fitting. Actually, I supplied that word for him; but it’s not as if it isn’t already in his vocabulary. But he seems fine.
So, to recap, my son took a big tumble, went airborn, dropped from the sky like a ton of bricks, hit the ground, and is A-OK. Oh sure, he might not know math now but that’s just fine with me.