A little boy came up to me at recess on Friday and asked if I would push him in the swing. The kids can all get themselves going in the swing, but sometimes it's just fun to have a grown-up help you get started so you can swing to the tops of the trees.
The kids really enjoy it and so do I. It's a serious workout to push a third grader in a swing. Most of them weigh 60-70 pounds, and I have to balance myself in the black rubber tire (probably around 8 inches deep) while giving them 3 big pushes--often times I am sweating by the time I get all 6 swings going. Once I start pushing, the swings fill up quickly. The day before I had pushed kids wearing a super cute skirt, a darling little black sweater and my teacher shoes--Birkenstock's. No problem. Not entirely true--it was a little windy and I worried about my skirt blowing up over my head and children being damaged for life or blinded by the sight of my backside covered in purple granniepannies. Alas, that did not happen, so all was good in the recess world.
Friday, the day of every teacher in capri jeans and Birk's, is a good day to play at recess. So when this sweetie asked me to push him, I just galloped on down to the swings like I owned the world. He loads himself into the swing, I grab the swing, pull it towards me and heave myself into a real good push, go to step back for a second push......and promptly lose my balance and fall flat on my back. And there I am, sprawled out like, well, maybe a turtle on its back or more like a 45 year-old-woman who has coordination issues and weighs a little more than she should.
First attempt to get up, results in my realization that others have seen this event occur. And that there is no leverage in millions of pieces of black rubber tire. And if I don't time this getting up thing just right, a third grade boy butt is going to whack me in the face.
Second attempt to get up, results in my realization that my recess partners are going to be of no help. They have seen the incident occur and are laughing so hard that they are not going to be able to assist me in anyway. Again, the whole butt whack in face thing is looming. I simply cannot get up. There is absolutely no leverage in that sea of black rubber tire. The boy I have tried to push is laughing so hard he can barely keep himself in the swing. The boy next to him, is also laughing very hard and between chuckles is attempting to check and see if I am all right. Not my recess partners, they aren't moving from their spot. And yes, they are still laughing. And now they are pointing at their wrists.
Third attempt to get up, results in my realization that the only way I am going to get up on my own is to roll over and push up out of the sea of black rubber tire. So that's what I do. Super attractive and extremely graceful. Roll over. Push up on my hands and knees, and get on up.
And still my recess partners are laughing. As I approach them, they are still pointing to their wrists. The closer I get, I can see that they are pretending to push a button. Only now I can hear what they are saying......
"HELP! I'VE FALLEN AND I CAN'T GET UP!"
Still they have not asked if I am all right. It doesn't even occur to them that I could be injured. Not just physically injured, but mentally injured.
Oh well. At least my granniepannies didn't show. Just sayin'.