Swing Judah, Swing.

Judah loves to swing. Not that he always has, in fact, he passionately hated the baby swing. Many winter evenings in Vermont found me hauling that old swing into my tiny kitchen, gently placing my swaddled baby boy in it, cranking it and cranking it again, and then rushing to make dinner while he wailed away in the swing.

Not my idea of a good time.

Somehow those memories of the (blessedly short) time spent in the torturous baby swing have not followed Judah, because now that boy of mine loves to swing. Whenever we go to any playground he makes a beeline for the swings. Who cares about the great twirly slide, the plethora of fun rocks under his feet, or the climbing wall!

Bring on the swing, baby!

We brought the swings we had hanging from the big maple tree in the front yard of our little red house in Vermont, to our new house here in New Mexico. Daddy hung them and they are used daily. I would hazard a guess that if I threw Judah a peanut butter and jelly sandwich every now and then, throughout the day, he would be perfectly happy to leave his bum parked in that swing all day long.

And while Judah may be perfectly content to swing all day long, he is never content with the speed or height in which I push him. He always wants FASTER! And HIGHER!

One of my most favorite things is hearing Judah exclaim that he is "almost touching the stars, Mama!" I wish he would always be well satisfied with just a little green swing.

Swing away, Judah. Swing away.