Seven Years Old for A Day

     It all started at the San Diego Tennis and Racquet club. My sister, my dad, and I were walking past tennis courts to get to #9, the court that we reserved. This court happened to be right next to the kid's playground. It was not one of those plastic toddler playgrounds, it was more like an old-fashioned, all steel playground. There was a balance beam, a swing set, a slide, and of course, monkey bars. Memories came flooding back to me. Me when I was seven, swinging, running, jumping, playing on a playground much like this one.
     I first tried out the balance beam. Wow, I didn't remember it being so easy. The swings I couldn't exactly try out. There were only the baby swings--the diaper-shaped ones. The slide was surprisingly short, and i didn't really slide down it--I kept on trying to scoot my self down, but I never  really slid. How could something so fun only 5 years ago be so boring and disappointing now? My heart was broken.
     I pouted the whole ten steps to the tennis court, but soon lost interest in finding out if I would become 7 again if I acted like a seven year old. Time to play tennis.
     The ball came whizzing past me as soon as my sister served. Oops, I didn't move. Oh well, maybe I'll move next time. I waddled like a penguin to go get the ball behind me. Bending down like a robot, I picked up the ball, and looked straight ahead through the odd green fence cover. THE PLAYGROUND WAS CALLING ME!
     I could go right after I finished the game. Time to become 12 again! The serve whizzed to me again, and I pulled my arm back. I hit it. Yes, in! Oops, I forgot my sister could hit the ball too. Oh well. I ended up losing the game. No surprise there.
     I dropped my racket, and sprinted to the playground. There was one thing I had not tried yet. THE MONKEY BARS! Dun, Dun, Dun, Dun, .... 
     I climbed up the ladder. I placed my left hand on the first bar. And I swung, and placed my right hand on the fourth bar. I can skip two bars!, I thought to myself.  I let go of the first bar, and reached for the eighth bar in my left hand. I grabbed it. And my hand slid off. Poop, I fell to the ground, and landed in the sand. How will I ever complete my goal? ...... The sand, I can be like a gymnast! I rubbed sand in between my hands, and got up off the ground. I set a goal in my mind. There back, There back. No stopping for more sand, and no two hands on the same bar at one time.
     The sand helped a lot. I went there and back, skipping two bars, swinging. Halfway done. I looked down at my hands. They were covered in dark dirt. My sweat mixed with the sand. I soon realized they hurt. Oh Well. I've go to complete my goal.
     I barely made it to the other side. I looked down at my hands. Ouch! I had a blister in the middle of my left, and it had already popped. Ew. But I could not stop, I was determined.
    The last part of the journey was the hardest. My hands stinging, my blister already popped. I tried to avoid hurting my blister more, and finally, I made it! I was the champion!
    I suddenly felt an unpleasant stinging sensation in my left hand. I looked down! AHHH! I had 2 blisters now! And they both had already popped! I was about to cry, but I decided I didn't like trying to be 7 anymore. It came with consequences. At least I did the monkey bars, I thought to myself.