I may just perhaps just possibly have mentioned that little Miss Elma is slightly partial to the swings at the play park. Only a little bit of course!
It’s the first place she heads to when we get near to the gate, the lure of flying through the air propelling her as fast as little legs wrapped up in waterproofs and wellies can possibly go (“I run-en Mummee!”).
She’ll stand in front of the object of her desire and with earnest expression turn to me: “this one Mummee! This one!”
And so we lift her in, pull her back and let go and she’s off, soaring through the air with a ribbon of laughter pealing out behind her.
We go to one of the parks almost every day, it’s part of the rhythm of our days, a habit picked up in the days when it didn’t take 30 minutes to dress everyone in sufficient layers to leave the house that I’m trying to cling to even through the rainiest of days, and every day we start with the swings.
It’s not that it’s one swing for Elma and one for Kitty, for one thing Miss Kitty is now so very tall that her feet scrape the ground in the little girl swings and has accordingly been banished to the big swings for fear of catching her toes and being catapulted across the playground, and for another, well did I mention that Elma loves swings.
Just at the moment that I feel my arm start to be in serious danger of falling off she’ll want out of the first swing, but as soon as those wellies hit the floor she’ll take all of three steps across and turn around:
“Now this one Mummee!”
You’d have thought they would be exactly the same, but it turns out she might just be on to something – after much scientific study I can tell you that one of the swings is a smidgen higher and the other one swings a little faster; and of course that must be the reason she needs to have a go on both!