Sometimes I don't like to admit to myself that I can't do the things I could do when I was a kid. When I was a kid, I loved swings. Still do. My dad would push me really hard and while all the other parents were scared-- kept saying, "Be careful, don't go over the bars," my dad would encourage it. And I would laugh and laugh and then jump as far as I could out of the swing.
But yesterday, I learned the hard way that jumping from swingsets is not for 29 year olds. While at a super fun Save the Free Beavers of Tay event in beautiful Dunkeld, I jumped in wellies and am now laid up in my bed, unable to walk from a sprained ankle. I should stick to writing about childhood instead of reliving it.
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