Charlie Takes a Dive (Melody Saves the Day)

Friday morning we get up, get dressed, take Dixie to school and then go to the library. For about an hour Melody sits in my lap and I read her about a dozen books, with intermittent pauses to go retrieve Charlie from wherever he has crawled off to. In between his excursions he plays with the Super Cool Baby Toys the library has to offer.

Then we head off to the park, where we meet our very good friends Aunt Emily and Little Sarah. We are playing on The Big Playground, which is cool because Sarah and Melody are quite brave and adventurous for being such short people and Charlie is happy gurgles and claps from the stroller. Charlie decides, however, that today is His Day. He is no longer willing to be chucked in the stroller and dragged about like some silly baby. He is a Man and therefore will play on the playground with all the rest of the Men. (One of the other Men was even out of diapers.)

So he climbs up onto a platform, where I think he is going to be content. Bah! He climbs to the next, and the next, and the next, until his knees are at my eye-level. He stands up, then crouches down to pick up a pebble and The Game begins.

Mommy: Put it down Charlie!
Charlie: Boof!
Mommy: Put it down Charlie!
Charlie: Boof! and he puts it down.
Mommy: Good job, Charlie!! Yaaaaay!! applause.

You should never encourage a baby, by the way--it gives them the desire to repeat whatever behavior brought on the applause. Once again, he stands up, then crouches down to pick up a pebble and The Game continues.

Mommy: Put it down Charlie!
Charlie: Boof!
Mommy: Put it down Charlie!
Charlie: Boof! and he puts it down.
Mommy: Good job, Charlie!! Yaaaaay!! applause.

Repeat, ad nauseum.

So Charlie finally becomes just as bored as I am with The Game and discovers The Slide.

The Slide in question is about 7 feet in length, straight, wide, not too high from the ground. It is everything a Mommy could ask for in regards to safety and catchability. Charlie gets down it with not much overly dramatic occurring.

Repeat, ad nauseum.

So Charlie finally becomes just as bored with The Slide as The Game and crawls off to greener pastures, well, more primary-colored plastic structures, to be more precise. It is there that we have a brief revival of The Game before he discovers The Twisty Slide.

The Twisty Slide makes The Slide look like bupkis in comparison. No real Man, having discovered The Twisty Slide would ever deign to place his diaper-covered booty back on something as inferior as The Slide. Unfortunately, as I realize that Charlie has discovered The Twisty Slide I am standing on the other side of the play structure and he is two feet over my head. The ladder is not readily accessible and I have a brief mental image of me unsuccessfully attempting to climb up the corkscrew contraption as my smallest child plummets to his unfortunate demise.

There is only one option left--climb up the The Twisty Slide. Sure, it sounds easy. When I was six, I loved nothing more. Twenty-two years after being six, this is no longer enticing. I am, how to say, uh, slightly larger now and a smidge less agile. Just a bit.

Nonetheless, I dive face first up the twisty slide to discover three things: 1) Mommy sandals have no traction. 2) I cannot get off my sandals. 3) Because The Twisty Slide has 1.5 turns I still cannot see the precious babe that only exited my womb a mere 12 months prior and is now in imminent danger of tumbling head over heels and snapping his little baby neck. As I wrangle with my footwear I hear the sweetest sound ever beheld by my two ears: The Voice Of Melody saying, "Charlie, get on your tummy so you can slide to mommy! That's a good little Charlie!"

I knew that kid was worth having around.

I disentangle my legs, thrust my sandals downward and reach up to see the feet of Charlie coming 'round the bend as he slides gently, slowly, gracefully towards me. I catch him, he giggles, I tickle, we leave the yellow tube and again see the sun. The world is right again.