Yesterday we drove to the ends of the earth (okay, it was Belton, MO, but it was like 232nd Street or something - I mean, really, shouldn't cities cut off the street-naming system at 100? Doesn't it get a little ridiculous?) to buy a pint-sized swingset-like-thing for $40. I say "swingset-like-thing" because "swingset" to me conjures up images of something large, which this is not, and something that has multiple swings, which this one does not. This one stands, including its little roof, about four feet high. The platform for the slide is about a foot and a half off the ground. The little angel's feet touch the ground when she sits in the tiny red swing. It is just her size, and it will remain just her size for about three days.
But she loved it.
As my beloved and I sat in lawn chairs and watched the little angel digging in the dirt with her shovel, climbing up the platform and going down the slide and yeah, even swinging by herself, we were sort of amazed. When she crawled into her Baby Sun Cabana (we have never used it to keep the sun off of her, but it does make a handy tent), my beloved mentioned getting out the real tent, just to blow her mind. I hoped he did not mean to prepare her for the oodles of camping trips we as a family would be taking, because sometimes you just have to put your foot down. Camping might be a better daddy-daughter activity, in my mind. I'll take her to book signings, then out to lunch at somewhere that cuts the crusts off sandwiches.
She seemed pretty proud of herself for all that climbing and swinging, as well. So proud that afterward she promptly taught herself to climb on the futon in my office. So far she's had the right idea about climbing, but hasn't had the height. I could see the wheels turning as she sized up the furniture in the house, though. "Must climb. Must conquer. Must find that damn remote control that does have batteries and actually changes the channel."
I know she thought this, because she loves television, despite my pleas she please not watch it so Mama and Daddy don't have to feel guilty for rotting her brain. See example in the following scenario:
Time: 4 p.m.
Total daytime hours little angel has been awake: 8
Number of toys used during waking hours: 143.3
Number of crayon marks on the hardwood floors: 17
Number of times the cat has threatened to move to Jamaica: 3
Total daytime awake hours spent with little angel in a moving car while driving to Iowa for Labor Day family festivities: 10.5
Total amount of remaining entertainment value of parents: 10%
Return on television-watching investment: 210%
We dialed up Bill Maher on HBO On-Demand to see what he'd done with the recent hurricane response. As the tub-thumping "too cool for a white guy" music came on, the little angel started dancing. She started bending her knees and moving up and down to the music. Then Bill Maher walked on stage...AND THE LITTLE ANGEL BROKE INTO APPLAUSE. It is scary - we are already molding her to our own views. This is how it happens, folks. Better start working on those Republican children.