Saturday, April 18, 2009
I need to lower my hovering skills
There is a strange park next to Jason's office. It is fenced in and only open at certain times. What times those are, we're not quite sure, but it was open yesterday, so we went.
We had gone to Jason's office so that I could sign mortgage papers, accepting an offer on our house. (A terrible offer, with lots of contingencies, but an offer nonetheless. Better than no offers.) Jason took the baby with him to go scan it and e-mail it back and Sarah and I went into the park.
There was a tree house building section. Trees, boards, nails (rusty!) and hammers. Build your own tree house, kids. Then there was a zip line, which stopped you by ramming you into an old tire, and hopefully you didn't break your head. Sarah played on rope swings that started you four feet off the ground. (You pulled them up to a jumping off point if you didn't have a mother to lift you up.)
In short, it was the most dangerous playground I have ever seen.
And I was the only mother.
Sure, from time to time another parent would come in, call their child's name and their kid would trot off. But, I was the only hoverer.
It struck me that this park would never be built in America. The lawyers wouldn't allow it. I mean, "here kid, build your own tree house!" in a public park? No. A zip line without safety equipment and monitors? Never! (Sarah rode it twice and loved it.)
And let's just say, to humor me, that it was built. There would be mothers everywhere. "Watch your step, honey!" and "Pound that nail carefully, darling." Aiyee! So very different.
Sarah loved it. Loved it. She wants to go back next time it is open. I think we'll go, as we now have our Swiss health insurance. Plus, her tetnus shots are up to date.