let’s play King Of The Mountain, kids!

This late morning Ralph loaded the kids into the bike trailer and the four of us rode down to the local playground for some runaround time. There I was mostly a spectator to the various contact sports of Daddy-Play which for my husband often involves these factors:

* screeching through the parking lot doing wheelies with the bike trailer
* helping my kids do stuff just beyond their physical ability and enough to make my stomach hurt
* running full-tilt down steep hills with wet grass
* ripping the crotch out of his jeans

By way of example I watched him challenge the kids to a “race” and vault over a cyclone fence in order to “win”. I think he was pretty impressed with himself even though his fellow contenders are younger than him even if you add their ages together and multiply by five. I have yet to see him actually push one of my children down for the dubious victory of, in this case, manning the “Captain’s Wheel” of the play structure – but I think when Nels grows some little boy legs (instead of the stubby toddler kickers he’s got now) Ralph may begin to employ even more dubious methods.

Home; lunch; weekend R&R.

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