Saturday, September 27, 2014


We were down at the neighborhood park the other day for a gathering.  As is her wont, Alison ended up on the playground.

She was likely skulking for babysitting gigs, but there's a pull from that place that I think will always be there. She loved that little collection of plastic slides and ladders and tubes. She scared the life out of me a hundred times by jumping from a platform to a pole or going up the slide backwards when she still testing out those chubby legs.
I was chattering away with someone when I glanced over to see her stretched out on the tube that connects the little kid slide to the big kid slide. Right next to her was a little kid perched at the top of big kid slide looking like he regretted being there.

And I flashed back to Grammie Reed and Jeff putting her up there in that same spot, letting her go down on her own. They were delighted. She was beside herself with her swhoosh of independent flight.

When I saw the pictures, I was outraged.  "You let her do what?! She could have flipped over and fallen off the side!"

Marian just smiled. Jeff grinned. Had she been able to form a sentence, Ali would have likely said, "Chilll out, Mom. I got this."  At the time, she probably screamed with delight and demanded, "Again, Grammie. Again!"

But last week, she was stretched out the length of the tube that she used to crawl through, stopping in the middle and giggling because we couldn't reach her. Too big to play but not so big she didn't feel the need to stake her claim.

It just goes so freaking fast...

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