…On any given Sunday is going outside to fly a kite.
(Weather permitting)
The sun shining down.
Clear blue skies.
The breeze ruffling your hair.
“With your feet on the ground…
You’re a bird in a flight…
With your fist holding tight…
To the string of your kite…”
“…Let’s go fly a kite and send it soaring…
Up through the atmosphere…
Up where the air is clear…
Oh, let’s go fly a kite!…”
And then Mom takes control of the string.
And while she is playing and laughing and making the kite do turns the string frays and snaps.
The kite drifts down to the ground in slow motion.
And lands in brush.
Prickly brush.
And you trample through the desert getting stickers in your shoes and scrapes on your shins to discover your string all tangled up in thorny plants.
Maybe Mom shouldn’t fly kites.
At home you rest on the couch healing your bruised ego and scratched up legs with moleskin.
Dad’s idea.
{Lyrics from Mary Poppins}
Great post!
And doesn’t it always happen that way? A tragic ending for the kite? I can’t recall how many of mine were destroyed over the years….too many. But still, oh so much fun!
oh no!!! Your poor little one..and woops…flying a kite is hard. …it really is..don’t feel bad..really:)
Ah, poor little scraped legs and I love that picture…so sweet. Sounds like a fun day…I was always the one who crashed the kite too, but usually not because of a broken string. Great post!
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Fantastic post Lizzi…. I’m a huge Mary Poppins fan!
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I love kites. Can’t wait until it’s warm enough to do stuff like that here in Michigan.
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