I carefully sat my stuffed bear upon the green seat of my swing, confident in my idea.
Today, I had wanted to swing with my favorite—and oldest—stuffed animal, Cuddles, but she was a bit too big for my arms to carry and wrap around the chain-link for support.
So, of course, being the very smart child I was, I had decided that putting her on the swing and sitting on top of her was a fine solution.
Mind you, Cuddles is bigger than your average stuffed bear. Additionally, and this relates to nothing whatsoever, all of the stuffing had been squeezed away from the areas where her limbs connected to her torso. Hence the name Cuddles, because little me cuddled her a bit too hard.
Satisfied with Cuddles's current position, I turned and sat down on the swing.
Only, when I landed, I didn't land at all. Cuddles had slipped, and so I'd slipped, which caused me to hit my head on the concrete below the playset.
According to other sources because my memory is entirely unreliable, I'd had a nasty goose egg on my head. I remember how cold the ice pack was, however. Never again.