A few weekends ago, back when we were still familiar with that giant yellow ball of gas in the sky known as the sun (it's been raining here a lot. A LOT), we spent some quality family time in Riverside Park.
We had wandered over to dinner at the Hudson Beach Cafe, which overlooks/is adjacent to a manmade beach wtih a volleyball court and gymnast rings.
Kids were swinging back and forth, back and forth, moving from one ring to the next with the casual confidence of olympic gymnasts. They made it look easy.
Monkey was enthralled. So, without thinking about it too hard, M brought Monkey over and stood in line with her. When it was her turn, he lifted her up to hold a ring, and swung her back and forth. My only objection was that she was swinging over the upturned garbage can used as a launching point. (you know, if she dropped on it that would hurt more than the sand)
So when it was her turn again, M brought her out to the second ring, and she swung back and forth there. And I do mean swing. She was making it look easy.
Until she let go. And dropped 5 feet down, onto the hard packed sand. Ow. She cried, we comforted her, and she got over it. Home we went for a good bath before bedtime.
Only then, during the bath, did I realize just how hard she had hit the sand. She still had sand shoved up into her nose.
She is one tough toddler.
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