The details are already a little fuzzy. I didn't go because I wanted to write about, or because I wanted to remember it forever. I went because the weather was nice and I thought it would be fun for her, for our little girl (Baby J).
We walked from our pick-nick, over to the red slides. I checked the temperature with my hand (a precaution I'd learned earlier this year on another slide). It was cool, and slick. I set Baby J up at the top as she squealed with excitement. Mom crouched at the bottom, ready to catch. I asked J if she was ready. Her gaping mouth told me that she was. Down she went, my hands ready to catch her, in case she lost her balance, her hair blowing in the wind, and Mom's hands holding her at the bottom.
"Was that fun? Do you wanna go again?"
Standing up and looking back at Dad was her answer. Over and over I helped her to the top and over and over she sped down toward the outstretched arms of Mom, giggling in her little pigeon cooing way.
I hadn't thought of it then, as we were just at the park, helping J slide down some slides. But I hope she knows that even when she grows up Mom and Dad will always be there. Dad's hands for when she loses her balance, and Mom's to catch her if she goes down. Or maybe we shouldn't allow it to go that deep, and just hope that she always knows we love her. We love her enough to help her go down the slides at the park.