Childhood.

Everyday we will swing.

And everyday we will see smiles...at least once.

Thankfully they did not get their mama's swinging loathness as I tend to turn green, get sea legs and wobble to my knees ready to barf-o-rama after 15 seconds. I much preferred climbing to the top of our metal swing set back in the day, scraping my legs on rusty screws and broken metal scraps, only to swing off backwards from the knees. Somehow I managed to make it through childhood without a tetanus shot or broken arm.

Just a head full of scars and stitches and that had nothing to do with a rusty metal swing set and everything to do with having big brothers who slammed doors in my face.

Meanies.

Glad my sweet as punkin pie kiddos would never do that.