D and I were having a very tedious argument about whether or not the one bug I found in the kitchen actually started out the night before upstairs in my couch on the cookie bar someone had abandoned God himself only knows how long ago (I still say ‘NO’). We weren’t arguing face-to-face. He was down below in the backyard and I was up on the porch. In fact, I couldn’t even see him.
Off to the side I heard “Mom, there’s a problem.”
I looked straight out to see Ethan in a tree. About 10 feet up in a tree. A tree that really isn’t a climbing tree because the limbs are only an inch thick.
K: What are you doing in that tree?
E: I was on the rope swing and then I just ended up in the tree.
K: I don’t understand how that happens. The rope swing goes beside that tree, not towards it.
E: I was on the rope and then the tree was there so I grabbed it and now I’m in the tree. It’s complicated.
K: Isn’t it always?
E: How do I get down?
K: I have no idea. I guess you’ll need to figure that out.
But when your mom pays a gypsy to climb 50 feet up your tree to tie a rope that you can ride all the way through the arc to a height of 10 feet 2 inches (verified by Nate’s tape measure) from the bottom of your shoe to the ground, you most certainly will be expected to get yourself out of a tree should you find yourself there by way of grabbing onto it.
The only reason the whispy tree is still there is because their father likes the spring blooms. Sure the branch can cause an occasional leg scratch and we do maintain a standing recommendation to all newcomers that they close their eyes if it appears they may become blinded, but by golly is that tree pretty in April. And you sure as hell better figure out how to climb down if you are going to be crazy enough to get stuck in it.
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