High atop Sky Top

Judging by my Facebook feed, being a loving and attentive mama in the Upstate of South Carolina means taking your child to Sky Top Orchard in the fall. A mama wanting to be characterized by both her love and attentiveness, I most definitely made sure my boys made the pilgrimage to this sweet spot atop Flat Rock, NC, where I'd lovingly and attentively taken my sister's children so many times before. 

Jones absolutely loved it.

We didn't pick the first apple, but he did inspect tractors, run along dirt roads, hike through a bamboo forest, and somersault through an enclosed playground slide that, I now realize, was probably too big for him to attempt on his own.

I'll start there, though it occurred at the finish of our visit. 

In the last two months or so, Jones has gone from a terror of slides to an obsession with them. When we got to the Sky Top playground, it didn't surprise me that he climbed the steep stair treads to go down a curvy, enclosed slide - curvy, he's done before. Enclosed? Not so much. Though he could climb up to the top of the slide on his own, he couldn't get himself situated at the mouth of it, so I climbed up to lend a hand. To be honest, I was hesitant about this arrangement from the beginning and held on to the straps of his overalls a little longer than I needed to, secretly hoping he'd chicken out.

But I've been praying that he'll "be strong and very courageous," so I should'nt have been surprised when he courageously insisted on my letting go, which I DID, but only AFTER confirming that Jeremy was at the bottom of said slide to catch our boy.

Thank God for that. 

As soon as I let Jones go, I proceeded to hear what I imagine it'd sound like if a person put a cat in a dryer. "Bang-bang. Thud. Crash. Cry. Bang. Thud. Thud. Bang. SQUAAAAAALLLLLLLLL." I sat at the top, listening to this horror and praying, "God, just let him be alive when he reaches the bottom."

He was alive, if terrified and totally uninterested in being consoled by his loving and attentive mother.  Best I can guess, he was just too tiny for the tube. As it curved, it catapulted him into a series of unexpected somersaults. Jeremy said, "Why'd you send him down head first?" As if I'd send my not-yet-two year-old off a twelve-foot high slide head first. 

Ironically enough, the only way we could get him to calm down was to suggest he go down another (non-curvy, un-enclosed) slide, which he did with reckless abandon, making me very proud of him for getting back on the hard-plastic horse so soon after "falling off" another. 

Prior to that, Jones had fed goats corn from the palm of his hand. He'd quacked back at a bunch of ducks who'd first quacked at him, and he'd "kicked the tires" of a rusty, old Ford tractor. He foraged through a bamboo forest and climbed a hill with his hands clasped behind his back in the exact same way my Grandpa Conley used to hold his. 

While climbing another hill, the sun was at his back, which shone his shadow on the dirt road. Jones noticed this and started dancing to watch himself on the dust-covered "screen" at his feet. Then, he'd stop and laugh at himself, so of course, I turned his "jam" on my iPhone and watched what ensued.  

Wanna watch?

Freddie was there, too, of course, but he stayed, primarily, in his stroller.  I can't wait until both boys are on their feet and running around at this beautiful place, where, of course, their loving and attentive mother will bring them every fall, for Facebook's sake.