Real Thrillseekers

Last weekend while pushing Gigi on the swings at the playground, I overheard some newish parents who were pushing their 12-13 month old in the next swing.

Mom to Dad: "Whoa, don't swing him so high!
Dad: "It's not that high, is it?" (It wasn't high.)
Mom: "Well, he was terrified."
Dad: "He was?"
Mom: "Yes, terrified."
Dad: "Well, is he okay now?
Mom: "I don't know."
Dad: "Does he still look scared?"
Mom: "No, but he was letting go, so don't push so hard."
Dad: "Well he's okay now, right?"
Mom: "You just need to be careful."

It was everything I could do not to snicker.

I tried to remember back to when Harrison was that age. Were we that cautious? I don't think so. I do remember the first time Harrison was on the swings. He did this incredibly cute frightened grimace, where he beared his two bottom teeth. Since I thought it was more cute than cautionary, I just kept swinging him until a smile crept across his face. And now he wants to be Evel Knievel.