Are you out of your tree?

I’m not.

I’m currently very firmly in mine.

Literally.

I’ll explain...

I have a huge jacaranda tree in my garden. It’s a beautiful old tree – dappled shade provider for us, carefree tweeting sanctuary for the birds (though to be honest, the springtime downpour of little purple flowers really gives me the sh*ts). Many times it has flickered through my thoughts how perfect it is for a tyre swing for my son, or maybe a treehouse one day, or how fabulous it would be to climb...

Now I’m not so great at child’s play. I’m definitely a multi-tasking playmate - my favourite hide-and-seek spot is in the laundry so I can whip through a load of washing whilst being hunted by an excited two year old, and my pushalong car’s racing route always speeds via the scattered duplo for collection along the way. 

Yes, my inner child is seriously stifled by the efficiency fairy.

But after a particularly frantic triple-tasking game of toddler backyard cricket (involving repotting a yukka and planning out a retaining wall), my son threw his bat down and quite justifiably got immensely upset at my inability to play ‘properly’.

After I’d curbed the subsequent toddler tantrum, I was led to some serious parenting soul searching. We’ve all done it. Must listen more actively, must stop referring to Dora is the babysitter, constant bribery with smarties will not be effective in the long term... and I do not deserve a snake just because I ate all my peas… 

So I decided to see if I was actually capable of unequivocal play by taking myself back to my favourite thing as a kid. There was a day when the first thing I’d do when I saw a tree was climb it. Didn’t need a reason, didn’t need to think about it. Just saw a tree and the first and only response is  ‘great, climb it’. And everyone around the world would agree that this is perfectly acceptable rationale for a 9 year old.

Hence right now, I am sitting on a branch, 15 feet above my lawn, in a jacaranda tree.

And it’s a magnificant place to be. It’s truly amazing the alternative perspective on the world a simple 15 feet can provide. Maybe I will be able to play as devotedly as my son craves in the future (cue shining light and choral music).

But maybe not. Unfortunately the moral of the story is not typically about embracing your inner child and subsequently becoming a more enriched and nurturing parent… however delightfully Disney and predictable that would be. 

The real moral of the story is to always have your mobile in your pocket when you do something childish and stupid, as thankfully I did. Because then not only could I really use this time effectively by writing my blog from up in the tree, ... but also... erm... help… I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to get down...