“Scoot up,” feet dangle in space, toes with mud packed between each one wiggle in search of the ground.
“Say the magic word.”
“That’ not today’s magic word.”
“Scoot up!” the seat lowers slowly until the toes touch the grass and the knees bend only to have the feet push the ground and fly back into the air. The teeter totter ascends as the opposite side descends properly, orderly. The lighter goes up, the heavier leans forward and comes down. The heavier holds the lower position. The lighter leans back, sitting on the farthest edge and comes down slowly. The heavier leans forward and scoots as far forward as the seat allows. The lighter hits the ground with a bump, hands fly off and the lighter sits on the grass. The heavier plummets to the ground. The heavier bounces out of the seat and lies on the damp grass. The lever levels itself on the fulcrum and rests. Laughter fills the areas near opposing seats as eyes see only blue sky.