It is embarrassing to write this, but honesty is more important than dignity…I suppose. After ranting at my ten-year old for leaping out of a tree and onto a wall and doing her Humpty-Dumpty impersonation, I went and did the same sort of fool-hardy thing. I guess the tree doesn’t fall far from the apple.
On Friday, since there was no school (and thus plenty of time to get into trouble), youngest daughter, exuberant dog and reluctant mom biked over to meet eager friend at playground. Bjorn (the dog) and I sat and barked (I sat, he barked) while the two pals clambered about, finding a very satisfactory place to sit high in the branches of a wisteria bush.
“You have to come up here mommy!” says the little monkey. After declining politely several times in a very mature and adult manner, daughter finally climbs down and urges me once more. “It’s beautiful up there. You’ll like it. I’ll even hold Bjorn for you.”
“Fine,” I think, “I’ll climb up and she’ll stop pestering me. The other two adults sitting in the park won’t mind.”
So up I go. It feels so easy and natural to climb and the view from the top is rather nice. But then, I start to think, perhaps a grown-up perching up here is a bit odd. Better get down before one of those responsible citizens with a large katakana “Patrol” sign on their bike basket comes by and scolds me. So I choose the fast way down; hanging from my long arms and dropping to the ground. I do not look down before I drop. The ground is farther away than I had reckoned. My knees do their best to absorb the shock, but my back tells me that I am, after all, forty-four and should not be dropping from the trees.
The only other woman in the park sees me. She smiles and tells me I look like a monkey. Well, I feel like one too now, thanks so much. I go home to lie flat on my back and do my old-lady back-strengthening exercises. From now on, no more dropping out of the trees. Only very young and green fruit can take the hard landing.