Not mine, - but Babybel’s. I knew she was a
stubborn determined little madam [can’t think who she gets it from] but today she demonstrated just how determined she is.
We took her to the local soft play area.I haven’t been to one since her daddy and uncle were small – and soft play areas have clearly changed in the ensuing years. This one resembled a floor-to-ceiling jungle gym – and when I say ceiling, I do not mean a domestic ceiling.
There was a toddlers’ area as well, but Babybel, ilk her father and uncle before her, thinks toddler play areas are for wimps. She did try it out but she really really really wanted to play where the gang of older, noisy boys were playing. Unfortunately the sort of scaffolding tower she had to climb to get up to their level was just a bit too widely spaced for a 2 3/4 year old, even one with long legs. She kept trying, getting increasingly frustrated until finally, just before we were due to leave, she realised that she could help to haul herself up by pulling on the netting round the whole caboodle.
Up she went, level by level, quicker and quicker – until she disappeared from sight.
At this stage Granny began to panic. Not that I was afraid she would fall, I knew she couldn’t – but I couldn’t work out how she could get down again. The only route seemed to be via an enclosed slide, which as far as I could see could only be reached by crossing a rope bridge. And although I knew she had been over one of those before, it wasn’t 20 feet in the air with a clear view down to the ground.
Fear not, granny. Babybel came into view, inching her way cautiously but confidently across the bridge to the lip of the slide, where she paused.
We couldn’t work out from the ground what was happening. Was she scared to get into the slide – as far as I know she has never been down an enclosed corkscrew one before. Did she not know what it was? She had studied it carefully from the bottom when the boys were coming down it, but that didn’t mean she recognised it from the top – and of course, by now, the boys had disappeared so we couldn’t ask one to go up and help her.
Finally, after trying a number of ways of getting into it, she came sailing down to the ground.
Whereupon rotten gran declared it was time to go home – which it was, but gran could also spot the signs of tiredness and knew a second attempt might not be so successful.
Cue for tears and tantrums, but gran has dealt with such before and was not moved. And we will be going back next week for some consolidation of learning.
I am very proud of her guts and determination – and know that she has learned the valuable lesson that in life, determination and effort can lead to success. [Never have a psychologist in the family, it leads to interpretations of your behaviour.]
Of course, stupidly, I had forgotten my camera, so her triumphant emergence from the slide has gone unrecorded.