Now, my title may be a wee bit misleading. There were actually no injuries incurred this evening...except a tiny boo boo on Tate's finger that I thought was imaginary because I couldn't see it through all the grime on his hands. It wasn't until we got home and washed up that I saw his little knuckle was slit open...and he howled like the dickens when the juice from his oranges ran into it.
Unfortunately I fear my title may be more prophetic than anything else. This is a new playground at Reese's school and is designed for 5-12 year olds. But Drue and Tate are determined to play the heck out of it also.
Tate got stuck at the top of the rope contraption and I barely heard his little voice call, "Help. Mommy. Help. Mommy." He just kept repeating it softly over and over until I noticed. So of course I had to snap a picture...
...or two before I came to his rescue.
The girls were sad that David wasn't there for our first night at the new playground. And David was just as disappointed when he called from Minneapolis and found out we were on our way home from playing at the new playground.