Ellie (Age 5): Mommy, what does it mean when someone says, ‘I’m already there’ but they’re not already there, it’s just in their imagination that they want to be there.
Me (Age 35, usual response): What do you mean Ellie?
Ellie: You know when someone asks someone if they want to go to the store and they say, ‘I’m already there’ but they’re still in their kitchen or something like that.
Me: This is a tough one.
Our language never ceases to introduce challenges into my daily dialogue with the kids.
I explained that she’s right. The person would really like to be at the store and by saying, “I’m already there” in their mind/imagination, they feel as though they are already there and will quickly attempt to actually, physically get there. Horrible explanation but I think she understood.
We arrived at the park shortly after our conversation and Ellie ran to the dangling rings set apart like monkey bars so she could start at one end and try to make it to the other.
Every visit she makes it a little further and today, she was more determined than ever to make it to the other side without assistance.
She was fiery in her efforts, slipping only when her last fingernail simply couldn’t bear the load of her 46.5lbs frame (as weighed electronically while I attempted to shower this morning).
She would fall, wipe her hands on the spongy ground cover and climb right back up. When another child wanted a turn she was polite while waiting to get back on but hovered over them willing them to fall so they could move onto something else and leave her Everest to its rightful owner. I think I even saw her mouth the words, “Nice try amateur” but I can’t be certain. She watched impatiently as someone held their newborn baby up to the rings with her hands on her hips and a squinty, scrunched-up face resembling a guy standing over a car engine with his buddies wondering where to begin….”wasting your time with the baby, no way she’s going to make it across.”
She started to make it further along the row of rings and used her falls as an opportunity for interval training; winding park equipment gears in both directions with a wax-on, wax-off approach. She would get her body into plank position and through a series of burpee-type exercises get her heart rate to spike again giving her the additional boost she needed.
While I walked around the park with Chloe, looking at the dinosaur, stopping for a swing ride and balancing on the wooden beams, I’d look back at Ellie who was grunting while one arm reached up victorious to grab the third to last ring. I giggled knowing I would be on the ground in a pool of my own vomit after even one attempt and she had tried several dozen times without giving up.
She took a short break to play tag where the rules were made up to work in her favour as the game progressed but I knew this was a risk when I agreed to be “it.” By the end, it seemed everything at the park was “T” (time-out) and if I so much as motioned to come near her she would squeal like I’d pelted her with burning rocks.
At the five minute warning, she sprinted to the rings and begged for a couple more tries.
She wanted me to step back, “Don’t touch me!” “Mommy, stop looking at me,” “Mom! You coughed!” as if it was my fault she wasn’t physically able to make it across. It was obvious fatigue was setting in, muscles were spasming, she was hallucinating, time to call it a day.
Me: Come on El, time to go home for lunch. We’ll come back to the rings another time.
She dangled staring at me, eager to complete this challenge, hung in the middle and started across the bars.
I continued walking towards the parking lot with Chloe knowing Ellie would catch up and that I didn’t have to look to the end to see if she had made it.
She was already there.
