Grandpa and I were to build a swing but while in town getting the needed supplies we stopped at the ice cream parlor and I ate too much ice cream.
Yep, I had eaten too much ice cream and was paying for it now. Grandpa admitted we had gone to the ice cream parlor and told Grandma it was his fault, he had insisted I eat the ice cream and too much of it. Grandma ushered me into the house and ordered Grandpa to get busy on that swing without my help.
Grandma gave me some medicine that made my stomach feel better then made a bed of sorts for me in a lounge chair on the back porch. She covered me with a light blanket and gave me crayons and a coloring book fussing over me every few minutes asking if I needed anything else, if I was feeling better, if I needed some more medicine.
At the same time Grandpa was busy in the garage. I could hear the saw and then the sander running. Every few minutes Grandma would yell out to him, “Harry make sure you sand that good we don’t want her getting any slivers in her behind.” I laid in the chair coloring and wishing I could go to the garage and help Grandpa.
After what seemed forever Grandpa emerged from the garage with a piece of wood in one hand and the rope we had purchased in the other. He informed Grandma that this was he and I’s project and he was going to need me to at least supervise the job to which Grandma informed him that was fine as long as I didn’t leave her site because she didn’t want to take the chance of him giving me any more ice cream.
The next several hours were spent me in the chair, Grandpa a few yards away under the tree, and Grandma inspecting every single thing he did. First Grandma had to check the board which would be the seat of the swing, sending Grandpa back to the garage a few times before it passed her test of running her hand over the surface.
Grandpa and I from our locations selected the branch and where on the branch to locate the rope. We wanted it a high branch so I could swing really high but had to be far enough away from the trunk so my legs wouldn’t hit that when I was swinging. Grandpa got out the ladder to tie the rope to the branch, placing the seat which had holes in each end on the rope.
The funniest thing of the day was when Grandpa had the swing all set but before I could try it out Grandma insisted that Grandpa had to swing in it first. Grandpa probably weighed 10 times what I did so she figured if it would hold him it would hold me. It passed the test and after Grandma feeling my forehead and asking me several times if I was sure my stomach felt ok that I was finally allowed to get on the swing.
Grandpa sat in a chair in the shade of the tree while Grandma came in and out of the house busying herself doing I don’t know what while I swung. I stayed on that swing until Grandma came out and told us it was time for dinner. I didn’t want to leave the swing but both Grandma and Grandpa told me that swing would be there tomorrow and I could swing all day if I wanted – except for meals.
That swing still hung in the tree many years later. Eventually the wood seat had to be replaced with new and the rope had started to fray a bit but it was still there and every time we visited my Grandparents I would spend some time in the swing that Grandpa and I built, with Grandma’s help.
