I’m not sure what ages my older two kids were when they were done-done-done with the baby bucket swings a the playground, but I know they were not as young as King Cole. For a few months now, his legs have just been too long to fit in and out of the baby swings without a lot of hassle (the shopping cart seat, too, actually). But Mister Man loves himself some swinging. So, we’ve had to suck up the fear of him falling, and dive into the world of big kid swings.
He has fallen a few times, sadly. It’s hard to remember you can’t lean too much or let go of the chains—no matter how much you love it—when you are not quite 3. He face-planted once and raised such a fuss, we were afraid he was really injured… then it turned out he was merely worried we wouldn’t let him back on the swing. (Silly boy—his mama grew up on a horse farm, and if there is one thing I was taught, it was get back on).
He’s even gotten to swing on this bad boy.
No matter how much I insist and tell Time, “Slow down,” it does not. Quite the opposite.
But what a thrill ride it is, that one through night and day, in and out of weeks, and over the years.