There once was a boy who loved to swing. He could swing or had swung from almost everything imaginable: tree branches, ropes, rooftops, telephone poles, backyard clotheslines, and even his mum’s apron when he was a very small child.
Anytime but mealtimes, the boy who loved to swing could be found outside swinging or climbing or dangling from every manner of swing-able thing. There was not a thing to swing which had not been swung on by the boy. He could swing higher, swing further, and with greater ease than most boys twice his age. (Although, boys who were twice his age had moved on to other things, foolishly considering themselves too old to still be swinging.)
The townsfolk didn’t quite know what to make of the ‘swinging boy’, who could be spotted all around town, doing what he does best.
On a certain Sunday, after church but well before supper, the boy who loved to swing had been spotted sitting cross-legged on the tippy-top of the tallest crane, enjoying his lunch of an apple and half a sandwich. There was no work on Sunday, so there was no one to yell at him to get down. There were only the two curious gentlemen who happened to be passing by and looked up to see the boy who loved to swing.
“I say, stop here a moment,” said the first gentleman. “Look up there! Why, I believe that boy must’ve been born part monkey!”
“How will you ever get down from there?” the second gentleman hollered up to him. “That crane is awfully tall. And you, my boy, are awfully small!”
“Don’t worry!” the boy shouted down to them. “I’ve been swinging and climbing for nearly my entire life. My first few months, I wasn’t able to do much climbing or swinging…being just a baby. But I quickly learned how to climb and swing! I know just how to get back down!” And with a whish and a whoosh, a fling and a swing, down came the boy to stand next to the two gentlemen wearing long coats and tall hats.
“Excellent climbing, young man!” said the first gentleman. “Truly amazing!”
“Yes, I agree,” said the second gentleman. “Why, I have a client in the circus business who would certainly like to meet you. I believe I’ll send him a telegram and see if he could use a new trainee for the high wire act.”
Friends and neighbors were happy for the boy. They speculated that he would one day grow up to be a famous mountain climber or tightrope walker. The boy’s relatives, however, were not so happy. They were of the opinion that the boy would one day swing—or, most likely, fall—from something too tall or too dangerous, and perhaps that would be the end of him.
“Maybe he’ll swing from a rope hanging above a pit of ferocious jaw-snapping crocodiles!” said the boy’s cousin, a mean boy who couldn’t climb at all. “The rope could snap and then he’d be eaten up for good! Then we’d never have to hear about him ever again!” Then the swinging boy’s Aunt, who was meaner still, replied with, “What a truly ridiculous thing to say! There are no jaw-snapping crocodiles around these parts.”
It was the boy’s own family who worried the most. The boy’s parents didn’t quite know what to think about their son’s amazing swing-ability. He’d been doing it for so long that they had simply become accustomed to it. The boy’s mum and dad worried that their only son (since the boy who loved to swing had six older sisters, all of which wanted nothing to do with swinging) might fall down and break into a million pieces, consequently allowing the boy to disappear from their lives altogether.
“Don’t worry, mum!” said the boy. “Don’t worry, dad! I won’t get hurt. And I certainly won’t disappear from your lives altogether. I just wish that I could go on swinging forever!”
As it turned out, the boy who loved to swing did not climb anything too tall or swing from anything too dangerous that eventually caused him to fall down and break into a million pieces. The boy did, however, disappear from his mum and dad’s life altogether.