To be a kid again

Between condo showings, work, house cleaning and other miscellaneous chores this past weekend, Hubby and I found time to take Monkey to our neighborhood park. It’s a wonderful combination of open space and play areas along a network of trails that lead right back to our condo. With the previous night’s storms leaving the air cool and refreshed, Sunday provided a lovely morning for a stroll, so we packed Monkey in the Baby Bjorn and headed out first thing after he woke up and nursed.

The toddler swing on the playground was a perfect activity for Monkey: he laughed and smiled a huge gummy grin as we pushed him through the air. Hubby and I took turns pushing Monkey while the other played on the “big kid” swing. I had completely forgotten how thrilling something like a swing set can be. No kidding, as I flew through the air higher and higher, I actually started whooping from a mixture of joy and the slightest hint of terror. I couldn’t even imagine jumping from the swing like I used to a a child.

I’d like to think I still make time for play in my life. I’ve even likened my time in the lab to the carefree enthusiasm I used to enjoy so effortlessly. But flying through the air yesterday morning reminded me how much I’m missing. Since leaving the park, I’ve been thinking about this scene, which I always found rather odd as a child, from Big:

I now understand her reticence to jumping while wearing a cocktail dress so much better than I used to. Oddly enough, I found Monkey later that afternoon pulling up on the bars of his crib while standing on his floor piano. The music was playing as he walked across the keys, reminding me of yet another scene from Big:

When’s the last time you really remembered what it was like to be a kid?

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