He comes home with his face glowing, his pants covered with leaves and dirt. (Those “soft pants” he loves attract mulch like a magnet.) “Mom! Guess what? I can do the monkey bars now!”
Unbeknownst to me, my littlest guy had set himself a goal, tried and tried again, fallen, gotten back up, and finally — triumphantly — succeeded, countless recesses later. His pride was palpable.
So we went back to the playground, long after the school day had ended, as the shadows were lengthening and the air was cooling. Just to see. To witness. To applaud. To share this small triumph which was actually not so small at all.
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
Very cool, I actually remember doing the monkey bars for the first time waaaaaay back in the Pleistocene age. Felt like I was the almighty conqueror.
What a neat memory. A real accomplishment, for sure.
That’s awesome!
Thanks, Kate. Happy Advent!
I love that he tried when you weren’t looking. But so bittersweet. The monkey bars are hard. Dillon still doesn’t do it.
That’s a knowing answer to a diiffcult question
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