In my area of the leisure centre, one of my responsibilities is to the large children’s soft play area. You know the kind of place that’s swarming with the under 10's and very tired looking mothers? That’s part of my working environment.
We have play leaders who keep an eye on the area and help the littler ones play and get up to the big slides etc, and serve food and drinks to keep mum/dad and children happy.
What can I say, I’m just a big kid at heart, and I love taking the excuse to ‘see if the slides need polishing’ or ‘if the frame needs cleaning’.
So, shoes off and I’m in the area with the children, running and climbing with the best of them (just avoiding low roofs, because it is for kids after all….). All is good, down the slide a few times and swap back with the normal staff.
One of the things that keep me the busiest at work when we’re full, is the accident book. I’m one of my workplace’s recognised first aider’s, and usually the one they call if anything major has happened. Also, with having so many areas in one building where different things happen, the staff will keep me fairly busy with accidents in the workplace (which obviously have to be documented).
We had a large children’s group in our soft play area (35 children) and the staff were stood around doing nothing. So I did what all good managers do, and arranged a game of ‘tag’. Staff were on versus the children. Eventually I got roped in as well, and being the ‘team player’ I am, I decided to pelt into the structure (avoiding the children of course). Quite happily avoiding being ‘tagged’ I was running across a rope bridge when a part of me body became stuck under a rope... 3 of my toes.
How I managed to not fill the air with expletives I do not know. More importantly, how I managed to get back down the slide was impressive….
One ice pack and an accident book later and I have at least one broken toe (self diagnosed). I don’t see the point in going and getting them checked out, as I’ve broken them before. They’ve gone a delightful shape and colour and hurt like hell. I’m just so very glad that one of the pairs of shoes I still have at home are my crocs.
Bloody children. I blame them.