Dad will enjoy building swingsets, if it kills him ~ May 8, 1986

David Heiller

Getting a swingset is a milestone in a child’s life. Assembling one is a milestone in an adult’s life.

The brand new swingset! They loved it!

I started assembling our Flexible-Flyer swingset—or “play gym” as they are now called—at 6:30 p.m. Friday night. I finished at 1:30 Sunday afternoon. In between working, I ate and slept. That’s all. The swingset cost $139.00, at the store, but counting my labor at minimum wage, it cost $203.10. No one who watched me put it together would pay minimum wage though. A sheltered workshop could have done better.

I suspected trouble when I opened the box, and found the owner’s manual. It was 13 pages long. KEEP THIS MANUAL, it warned in stern bold face letters. “It contains assembly instructions, anchoring tips, maintenance and safety tips, and ordering information.” There was even a CAUTION on the front. I read it nervously, suspecting something from the surgeon general: Assembling swingsets may be hazardous to your mental health. No, it warned that kids heavier than 75 pounds had better find another place to play.

Noah enjoying the swingset,
Malika enjoying Noah

On the second page was the line that adorns the front of every owner’s manual, from pyramids to space shuttles: “Read the entire manual completely before assembly to familiarize yourself with all parts.” I have never met anyone who has done this. On this introductory page, it also told about safety, pre-assembly instructions, and tools required. I was relieved to see the only tools needed were a screwdriver, adjustable wrench, and pliers.

The next page told how to anchor the swingset—oops, the “gym set.” I learned that it could be anchored in concrete; or with ground anchors or augers. Why were they telling me how to anchor it when I hadn’t even taken out the parts yet? To build confidence, I would bet.

Page four got into the nitty-gritty: Assembling the A-frame. I removed the two plain chin bars, the slide chin bar, the end and center legs, the two top bars, and a whole pile of bolts, lock washers, and nuts. Here was the first good piece of advice on the nuts and bolts: “Place the contents in one end of shipping carton to prevent loss.” I discovered why soon enough, as I dumped them onto a plastic bag in the grass. It was about this time that my wife turned our son loose from the house. He streaked to my side, and began hefting the chin bars like a weight lifter about to celebrate his third birthday. He carried them to various parts of the lawn. Then he rearranged the center poles to the end, and put the end poles in the middle. While I straightened them, he discovered the pile of nuts and bolts, and dumped them into the grass. I returned to pick them up, yelling at Noah to not touch anything. By this time, he had found the screwdriver and pliers, and had carried them a safe distance from his crabby father.

The work was totally worth it!

“Noah,” I said in a voice bordering a scream, “give me my tools. These are not toys. And don’t touch those bolts and poles. I’m working.” How can you be working when you are making me a swingset, he must have thought.

Noah went to bed shortly after that. I got the A-frame assembled just as darkness fell. I had to substitute two of the ¼ inch from my own rusty collection and I ended up with four 5/16 inch bolts left over. But the frame was standing, and I slept a little better for it.

The next morning I tackled the air-glide assembly. A neighbor came over with his two kids. They played with Noah, but our daughter motored her 11-month frame toward the pile of bolts and nuts. As the three adults struggled with the air glide, Mollie counted the bolts and nuts out into the grass. We caught her half way through, then took turns holding her while the others worked through the assembly.

I asked my friend if he had ever assembled a swingset before. “Oh sure, a couple,” he said nonchalantly, But I could see his hands start to shake with the memory, and his eyes glazed over for a second. “I never read the directions either.”

He stuck with us till the lawn swing was assembled, then bolted for home. That left me with the slide, trapeze bar and swings. I finished them up by the following morning. I had to resort to one more tool not mentioned in the owner’s manual—a hammer. Some of the bolts—the ones we could find—just didn’t seem to fit.

The swingset is now up. I still have those four extra bolts, plus two nuts and nine lock washers. Noah announced as I finished the slide that he wanted to play with his sled. But he will get over that. I’m going to try to steer him into engineering as a career. Then he can be a professional gym set assembler, or at least put one up for his own family easier than I did.