Falling

So I am used by my sister as a PSA (public service announcement) to warn my young nephews of the dangers awaiting them at the swing set.  I don't mind to tell you this somewhat embarrassing story, I mean I was six, who doesn't have at least one embarrassing story from their childhood.  Anyways I bet you are wondering just WTH happened with a swing.  Let's set the scene... First off it was a beautiful spring day towards the end of the year.  I was in first grade and on recess after lunch.  My favorite spot was either playing around this huge pine tree with roots exposed or on the swing set.  You had to be quick with the swing set, everyone wanted on it.  The goal being to swing as high as possible.  That day I picked a branch on a nearby tree.  The goal sadly wasn't to get my foot above the branch that would have taken more than that particular swing set had to offer.  The branch was on a tree to the far right and I was on a swing to the far left, so it just needed to look to my small eyes like my feet were higher than the branch I had picked.  I started out slow and soon enough I had picked up some real speed.  The problem was that my pants were starting to slide down with every swing back and forth.  To my six year old mind there was nothing more embarrassing than for my pants to fall down and show my undies to the boys in my class playing nearby.  I came up with a plan and thought that I had it all figured out.  Obviously I couldn't let go with my feet up in the air and my back to the ground.. so I would wait until I was coming down towards the rut the ground.  Then I would quickly let go with one hand and pull up my pants, the problem was that I wasn't quick enough!  Soon I was made the transition from the rut, the back swing, and was quickly moving towards having feet back in the air.  The last thing I remember is a boy in my class calling out to warn me and then I woke up on the ground with my right arm at a strange angle underneath my body.  I got to my feet and went quickly over to Mrs. Sprinkle carrying my right arm with my left.  With fingers that I couldn't manage to wiggle and crying out when my teacher touched them it was decided I had broken something.  My grandmother was called to come and pick me up and the story is much longer and includes a few other DO NOT's but at the end of the day I came home with a red cast.

Thus sealing my fate as a future story to my nephews to keep both hands on the chain of the swing at all times.

* side note we spent a week every summer at the beach... I did not get to keep the cast with all of the signatures of my 6 yo friends.. the doctor threw it in the trash.