(AKA I can’t use a firepole correctly AKA My fingers are burning and I can’t Swear*)
Another trip to Storybook Gardens, this time spiced up with a touch of misadventure. I was escorting Max up the rather steep ladders on the pirate ship, all the way up to the two storey slide. Sometimes the slide is a little too intimidating for him, but he was full of gumption and confidence today, so up we went.
On his second trip down the slide, I had a moment of indecision on how to most easily and efficiently get down to the ground to meet him. The previous trip down the ladder had worked just fine, but for some reason I needed to explore my options. My foolish brain leapt to the conclusion that I’d try the firepole. I DON’T KNOW WHY. It’s not like I have any memories of using a firepole successfully, much less enjoying it. Let’s chalk the choice up to curiosity.
Immediately after grabbing the pole and stepping off the structure, I realize I have no idea on how to proceed. Once again, my quick-thinking process chooses the worst option, and I loosen my grip enough to slide a little bit down. With the friction and heat (it was a black metal pole in the sun on an obnoxiously hot summer day) the contact points between my soft flesh and the pain pole start blistering right away.
I somehow made it down to the ground to find my child, as my fingers screamed in a terrible fiery pain. I spent the next 20 minutes staring at my hands for signs of the flesh actually combusting, and trying to touch absolutely nothing. Of course, it’s impossible to keep one hand quarantined from interaction when you have a curious imp of a two-year old child, but I managed to stifle both my need to swear, and my desire to yelp and cry a little each time anything brushed my hand. As a fun fact, though I couldn’t remember using a firepole before now, this pain was instantly recognizable: I have done this before, and I should have known better.
After a few hours, the pain lessened and there doesn’t look like there’s any real damage. No amputation today.
*An alternate bonus title for the smuttier readers : ” I don’t know my way around a fireman’s pole”