Mar 9, 2011

I have been trying to take Scarlett to the park at least twice a week to get out and stretch those crazy run happy legs of hers.  I buckle her in the stroller, start at a brisk walking pace and point out the trees, birds, squirrels and ducks. And oh the ducks. You would think that Scarlett forgot the English language and was blessed with the gift of speaking duck. All quacks, all the time.

We continue strolling, and when she sees the brightly colored play set in front of her swimming in a sea of greens and browns, she yells "pak, pak" (translation = "park, park"),  kicks her legs and wiggles her body, using any method of escape she can think of.  I let her out of the stroller and she takes off running, or walking as quickly as her little legs will carry her, straight to the slide.  It is always her first stop.  Without fail she will spend her first five minutes trying to climb the slide from the bottom up.  Take two tiny steps up the incline, sit on her bottom and pretend to slide while saying "whoa".

What is it about slides that entice you to start from the bottom up? I remember when I was a kid and I would do the same thing.  Find the perfect position of my shoes on the plastic to get the grip I needed to maximize the force of my step. The thrill of the struggle to get to the top made the "whoa" totally worth it.  Five feet to the right of the slide is a set of stairs that would take her straight to the top.  But, apparently it is the effort put into the climb that makes the twelve inch glide to the bottom the thrill of her day.  Later I get tired of watching her climb for her thrills and put her straight to the top, she laughs the whole way down.

I have showed her how to climb the stairs and get to the top on her own but she still chooses to start from the bottom.    So for now I will watch her struggle to climb knowing that it won't be long before she can make it to the top, breathless and ready for the two seconds of bliss she will get on the way down.