I'm four. My dad hands me some juice in my favorite cup, the hard plastic cream colored mug with a picture of Goofy holding a mug with a picture of Goofy holding a mug with a picture of Goofy. Dad teaches me to say, "infinite regression."
We're in the master bedroom. Dad stands me off to one side of the full length mirror on the wall. He hides half his body behind the corner of the mirror. He raises his right arm and right leg. I see his image, both arms and legs up, so his body floats in space. I laugh and get some juice up my nose.
It is Saturday and Dad has time for me. I lie on the floor and he grabs my right wrist and right ankle. He picks me up and swings me around and around him so I fly like a plane but I see the world flying around me--there goes the big green stuffed chair, the big black table with the long plant hanging down, the fireplace.
We are in the front yard under the big old oak tree. Dad takes the rope and board swing and twists it all the way up. Then he holds the seat for me to lie on with my belly. He lets me go. I slide off when I stop spinning and I stagger around, finally falling down on my butt. I whine because Dad is walking away and I'm still too dizzy to get up.