toddlers growing up

Early in our marriage I told my husband if we did our job right, our children would be ready to leave at 18. I don’t know how it happened but they were ready and they did leave.
Our nest is empty. Our college student is aiming to be financially independent next year. Without my help her brother finds bargains at the grocery store. They all moved out and left us with a quiet house.
Last weekend we decided it was time to go to New Orleans where there are children who do need my help. I told my grandchildren’s mother she could prepare for the next week’s company while I took both children to check out a couple of garage sales.
I had to repeat myself. Yes, I wanted to take both. Yes, I could manage both the toddler and the pre-schooler.
At the first garage sale, the pre-schooler ignored me after she saw another child her size. They smiled at each other and began to play. I watched her pleasure at meeting another little person. Meanwhile the toddler was busy exploring everything I would let him touch. He comes, he sees, he conquers, especially anything he can climb.
On the way home we stopped at a park with a jungle gym, slide and swing set. The baby eagerly toddled his little body down the sidewalk. He climbed stoically up the arched bridge on the path, looked around at his glorious view from the top and stomped his way down the other side. He spied the shiny slide surrounded with black, rubber cushions, ran over to it and began to climb.
I hovered over him holding a protective hand behind his every move as he stumbled, slid and crawled his way to the top. He did fine as long as he concentrated on the slide. When he looked up, however he would let go of the sides, reach for the top and slide backwards.
“No, hold the slide,” I placed his hand on the metal rim.
Step by step, his sneaker clad feet plodded up the slide. His hands gripped the sides, his eyes intent on the next step. When he fell, I gently braced him and urged him to hold on and keep going.
The first several climbs as he neared the platform he went down on his knees, reached for the platform and began to slide down on his tummy.
After several attempts he remembered to old onto the sides, keep his head down and his eyes on the platform until he reached it. He pulled himself onto the platform, stood up and grinned triumphantly. He had conquered the mountain.
He checked out the view, went back to the slide and slid down bracing his slide with his feet. When he reached the bottom he turned around and headed uphill again.
For the next 45 minutes he repeatedly climbed that slide with only short breads to check out the swing and jungle gym. They were too big for him.
As his climb evened out, I quit hovering, stepped back and watched. He was ready for the Olympics of slide climbing.
In a few years, he will be telling me he wants to go to the playground my himself. He will reassure me that yes he can manage both the slide and the jungle gym even the swing without my help.
And I will let him go and stay home to wonder how he grew up so fast.