How The Monkey Bars Explain Parenting

Today, I realized that Delaney, my darling youngest, at the tender age of 3, has now reached that magical age where she can cross the monkey bars with my assistance. Her young growing legs, dangling and swinging wildly, are just long enough that with each brave outstretched attempt, her momentum brings her feet squarely back, right there. Each time. Where the sun don’t shine.

I’m not sure if there’s a better example that sums up being a parent. It’s magic. And it’s a kick in the pills.

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