by Kristen Bagwell

It started off like any other early-release day. Last week, I found myself with an extra hour or two to kill before heading home for dinner, and two kids needing to burn some energy. It was actually quite cold, and a bit dreary, plus we needed snacks. Plan A is normally the outdoor playground near our house, but due to the weather I went to Plan B: indoor play center with food option.

(I should mention at this point that as I get older, I am getting wimpy-er. I never had an issue with claustrophobia until recently, and evidently I can now mix in a fear of heights. This sidebar will become relevant in a minute.)

So there we were: Plan B, and everyone was behaving perfectly. We grabbed a quick snack and cleaned up, and then headed to my daughter's big reward: the indoor playground. This one was small but newish and relatively clean, plus it had a cute little area for the 3 and unders. (The ones who will pay attention to it, that is...) As soon as we got in the door and took our shoes off, I guided baby W to the toddler area. Big sis, of course, took off up the staggered platforms to the giant gerbil tubes overhead. W was good for about 45 seconds, and then got his "yep, I'm gonna do that thing you don't want me to do" grin and off he went. Slowly, carefully, he climbed up platform 1. He turned and smiled his "I did it!!" smile, feet kicking, dangling off the side...and then he noticed the next level. Great.

It's not often that I pray aloud in public, and generally not at a fast food joint. As I watched baby W clamber up to the second tier of the indoor play center, though, balancing on his baby buddha while trying to coordinate his cute little tree trunks back underneath him, I found myself murmuring "deliver us from evil." Evil, my friends, is the playground/toddler combo, which leaves little leeway for my phobias.

This, for me, was a nightmare...following my happy, active toddler through the kid-sized plastic maze, suspended from the ceiling by metal supports that I hoped were strong enough to hold at least 4 over-sized toddlers at a time in any one spot (assuming that's about how much I weigh; work with me here.) As we wandered back and forth between the 3 (!!) upper compartments, I found myself looking for a weight rating on the plastic tubes, and repeatedly checking the bolt/attachment areas while bracing myself with my hands on either side of the tube. Oy. Beads of sweat broke out on the back of my neck as I gritted my teeth and tried to smile for the cuties. "Yes, this is great! Best time ever!" Lies, lies, lies, darlings.

Added bonus: the upper/outer 2 compartments were shaped like a helicopter and a car, respectively, and had the added bonus of noise, vibration, and general wiggling when the kids entered. Wiggling! BARF. (I can't decide if the clear porthole-windows helped or hurt my cause, because while I could see out, I could also look down. Bad call, me.)

After 17 minutes of elevated heart rate and two trips down the twisty slide (completely enclosed, but with no windows - kill me now) I declared victory. "Time to go, pals," I announced, and big sis surprisingly agreed to go ahead home for now, as long as we could come back another time soon.

We'll see about that.