Have you ever watched kids playing on a play structure and said to yourself,"I hope I never have to go up there and rescue anyone." I have, about a bajillion times, and, yeah, you know where this is going.Chick-fil-a and I have a somewhat tenuous relationship. I don't appreciate all the misspelled words in the establishment, something about environmental print and whatnot. I am a bit sick of their limited use of chicken. But, they have the best of the "fast food" out there, healthwise; Everett loves to play on the play structures; Erik, especially, loves the lemonade.
This evening was a bit harder for Everett with Erik not being around to play. I decided to let Evy pick what was for dinner . . . and we ended at Chick-fil-a. Our local chicken providing establishment has one of the most intricate and highest play structures I have ever seen. [Erik always calls me OSHA (Occupational Safety & Health Administration) because up until the past few years most playscapes looked like death traps, and I would be the first to critique them.] Our structure is very clean, very OSHA friendly, and Erik said that Everett made it to the top last time and slid down the slide.
So, off he went to play while I sat on the bench to entertain Merritt.
Tonight, Everett did make it to the top (the top has to be around 15-18 feet up). I thought his goal was to slide down. There were lots of kids playing around, climbing up the slide, and screaming. So, I knew it would take some time. Well, it took too long. The time to feed Merritt came and went, and it was time to get Everett out of there and go home.
I called his name.
I cajoled.
I cheered.
I counted.
I waited.
I tried to problem solve.
I said I was leaving and left the room (to this he said cheekily,"Bye, Mom").
I called his name repeatedly.
I counted again.
I asked the older kids to help.
I waited and called, in vain, for him to come down.
I exchanged looks and comments with other moms and wondered at what point I needed to go up.
Other moms came to investigate: Is it the four year old blonde boy at the top?
Me: Yeah, but he is two, he is just big for his age.
(BTW, with how this structure is designed, you can't see the kids at all times. There are lots of places where they are hidden from your view. I have now added this problematic element to my OSHA criteria.)
Supportively, the other moms started to say to their kids: Stay down here until he comes down, Stop screaming, Get back here, Don't climb up the slide, I said not to scream, No--you need to wait until we get him down.
20 minutes after I started, in vain, to get him to come down, I decided I had to go up.
I am SIX feet tall. I've got a little extra post-pregnancy love around my middle. In all, I am not a small woman. (if you are over 54 inches, you aren't supposed to play on the structure the sign says). You know that the openings to climb through get smaller the higher up the structure you go. ye-ah.
I climbed that play structure, trying not to expose my entire belly to EVERYONE in Chick-fil-a who was now watching some grown woman climb the stupid thing with 8 kids running and climbing around her. Found Everett. Asked what the problem was and he said,"Wanna slide but poopoo."
The boy wanted to go down the slide; he was right by the opening, poised to go, but he didn't want to slide because he had POOPOO in his pants.
I gave him the choice to slide with poopoo or climb down. He tried to slide. I cheered him on, but he just couldn't do it.
So, with a John Wayne swagger (remember the poopoo), he started to climb down the structure. Midway down he decided he wanted to go back up, and I let him know that in no uncertain or certain terms was he going to do that. So, he started crying and calling for dada and screaming about how he missed his dada.
And, yes, Merritt is bawling his eyes out the entire time.
And you know what bothers me the most, it isn't the crying. I hate heights and never want to have to climb through those multilevel structures again. I had to slither my body through the levels because I am so long.
And, we had a thorough debriefing when we got home about what happened. Don't underestimate the 2 year old. They know a lot more than one would expect.
