I made the mistake of mentioning a bit of Slip 'n Slide debauchery within earshot of Sam.
"What are you talking about? Are you talking about a water slide? Is it here? Is it a slide? Where is it? Does it have sprinklers? Can I splash down? Where is it? Can we play on it? How does it work? Where is it? Where is Daddy? Does it make you slip? Does it make you slide? How far can I go? Can Zoe slip and slide, too? Where is it? Where is Daddy? Is it fun? Have you done it? What are adult beverages? Will it spray water in my face? Will I get really wet? Where is it? Where is Daddy? Do you hook it up to the hose? Will I go very fast? Can we go slip and slide now? Where is it? Where is Daddy?"
He didn't stop there but I think you've a clear picture by now. By the time he finished with the inquisition, he had stripped naked and was about to burst with nervous energy. He is his Mother's son. I can only do what I hope is best when he goes to this place. I'm very familiar with it. It's full of grandiose notions, stellar ideas and hopes, dreams and expectations as big as all time and space. Ha! I make it sound as if we're schizophrenic or bipolar! It is only that we are prone to extreme optimism, even in the face of poor odds. As his Mother, I do what I do. I smile and nod and clap my hands with glee. I chirp. I am his launching pad. Because how long does hope exist this purely? Certainly not entirely through childhood. In my experience, lessons are learned and reality begins to chip away very early on.
I know through sober experience that a nine dollar strip of plastic isn't going to whet his appetite. I know he's in for a rude awakening the first time his rib cage and the ground meet one another. I know it might as well be a jar full of Sea Monkeys. And he soon learns the hard way. An inflatable sliding mat is included in our model. In a way, it is merciful compared to the ones I've encountered in the past. But Sam can't tell it. Later, with the breath knocked out of him, I am his soft place to fall and he is nearly inconsolable. I scoop him up and kiss him while his tears slip down his cheek and over my lips. When he is finally soothed, he sits on the mat and his Daddy pushes him safely along the slide. He makes a plan. He adapts his expectations. He is not disillusioned and that gives me hope. Not only for him, but for myself, also.
Slip 'n Slides, childhood and parenting: Not for the faint of heart.
8 comments:
Truth is, it's parents who slip slide away.
So much fun.....brings back lots of childhood memories! Lots of grass burns when you hit the end. xx
Like riding down hills on flattened cardboard boxes. Such a shock, how much it hurts and freaks you out the first time. But the second time is all thrills ...
Good post. Very nice one.
Half the parties I have been to this summer featured a slip and slide. And drunken fools who hurt badly the next day.
Bill - You are all too right. All too right. I sometimes wonder who is holding who on the path.
Heartfelt - Grass burn is not fun. Not. Fun.
Ange- I've never tried it on a box! I tried it once in a shopping cart. But only once.
Ms. Moon - Thank you so much!
DTG!!!- DTG! Wow! I'm very excited to see you reading my little ol blog. We've actually been discussing renting a blow-up kiddie slide for our annual September party. We know a guy who knows a guy. Add a hose and adult beverages and I can't think of anything better.
My crew have talked for years about renting a big blow up thingie, but we never do. You know, a large tarp, a sprinkler, and a bottle of dish soap make for a hell of a slip and slide.
DTG is right. I told you all you need is a roll of Visqueen and some Dawn dish soap!
I think my upcoming kayak weekend is my version of the slip and slide. Only more expensive and a greater chance of death or serious injury.
Post a Comment