Every day on our way home from school,
we drive past the house with the slide.
Not a slide in the front yard,
a slide that shoots out
of a hole in the wall
beside the front door.
There are front steps too,
but my children and I agree
they are clearly only used
to get in the house, not out.
And most days,
my children ask again
if I would consider a slide,
which would only work
from our second-floor window,
and when I explain the many ways
we would die or be injured,
they ask for a puppy or a pool instead,
as though “no” is just a detour to “yes.”
But the truth is,
I am as envious as they are
of the house with the slide.
What if I defaulted more often
to “why not?”
So I researched pet pigs
and family bands
and then finally decided
to buy ice cream and cookies
and for dinner that night
we ate ice cream sandwiches,
pausing my pledge to adulthood
for a few glorious hours
to give whimsy
a turn.