When you buy a swing set, no one ever tells you that you'll have to tear it down someday

There is something important they don’t tell you when you buy one of those wooden swing sets for your kids. Buyers want to know how much it will cost, how long it will take to put up, how long it will last, and maybe a few questions about options. And that’s usually all the conversation entails. But there is something else very important to keep in mind, and they aren’t going to tell you. One day you will have to tear it down.

That may seem obvious, but I promise you that it is worth some thought. Don’t worry. I’m here to help.

When it is time for the set to come down, tip No. 1 is to get to it before the fire ants come out. They aren’t going to be happy with your demolition and they will exact some revenge. Or maybe those devil bugs sting just for fun. Either way, pick a day too cool for them to be out.

That leads into tip No. 2. You are going to be at least a decade older or, in my case, a decade and a half. Odds are strong that you aren’t in the shape you were when you put it up and you are going to get a pretty good workout. You will welcome the cooler weather. It wouldn’t hurt to do a little cardio in the weeks leading up to demo day. Just saying.

And the final tip when it comes to timing is don’t wait until your little girl is packing up for college when you take it down. You may think you are ready for all that, but you are going to start thinking about ponytails swaying against the movement of the swing and singing silly songs while you used to push her and those snot bubbles will catch you by surprise.

Tip four is to do it without an audience around for reasons listed in the previous tips.

My wife had been after me for well over a year to do something about our severely listing wooden play set. She is very attached to it, too, but not so attached that she was willing to watch it collapse on a kid.

A few weeks ago, a windstorm took off the roof and pressed the issue. So I took her down with a mind full of memories and an embarrassing amount of hard breathing.

I say “took her down” because we named her the day she went up — Fort Chicky Chickee. Her raised platform looked like a fort and she was ruled by girls. Two girls to be exact — Ella and Colby.

I can still picture Ella’s surprised expression when she walked into the backyard and saw Fort Chicky Chickee for the first time. Colby was less impressed until she went down the slide the first time. Then her expression quickly caught up with her big sister's.

Of course, the fort was home to all of the “usual stuff” — sliding, swinging, sandboxing and picnicking. Ella sang many verses to "El Cerrito Place" (the Charlie Robison version, not the Kenny Chesney version) while I pushed her on the swing. I loved hearing her little voice sing that song and she loved me pushing her, so it was a win-win. And Colby could make her mom slide down with her a hundred times with the irresistible combination of a sweet smile and insistent eyes.

Then there was the “special stuff” with things like decorating her with Christmas lights, modifying her with a special bridge, and using her as a viewing platform for fireworks.

And there was the “you never expected that stuff.” I sat in the upper fort while on the phone with my mom discussing Colby’s funeral. The two of us trying hard to console the other and failing miserably because — well because it’s not possible. But Fort Chicky Chickee offered some comfort, some temporary refuge from the larger world. She was a tiny space where things made sense if I could just keep from thinking about the world beyond her.

A couple of years later, we made the move to Oklahoma. Ella was getting older, but would probably be young enough to play on a swing set for a couple of more years. Was it worthwhile to move it?

We spent a little time on the rational aspects of moving a wooden playset to a new home, but it didn’t take long and the emotional aspects took over. Fort Chicky Chickee would be relocated!

It’s a good thing, too. We didn’t know it when we moved, but we of course would end up adding another child to the family — Alex. And adding a boy meant it would no longer belong to two girls. So the name of the fort was changed! Just kidding. It’s still Fort Chicky Chickee because it — like our family — will always be indelibly marked by Ella and Colby.

An extra slide was added. The sandbox toys became more earth-moving machinery focused. Physics experiments of objects being thrown from the top deck became normal. Brother and sister shared chocolate malts together. Grandparents didn’t act their age. Wasps attacked and provided opportunities for boy and dad to show toughness (boy did better than dad).

But icy cold winters and hot dry summers took their toll. Attempts were made to increase her longevity, like some boards being replaced and painted with lemon oil to revive her cedar and repel bugs. Bolts were tightened. Supplemental fasteners added. The set with a 3-year warranty lasted 15, but just barely.

Every swing set has its own stories. Those were just some of ours.

Buyers of new swing sets will soon be living out their own stories and creating their own memories. Those memories will flood your brain on the day you take that swing set down. The pieces will get hauled away and the memories will be all that you have left — so make lots of good ones.

If you do, you’ll be blessed with some well-earned snot bubbles of your own and you won’t want it any other way.

Neil Turner is a stay at home dad, father of three from Edmond. He homeschools his youngest and enjoys sharing their learning adventures with others.

This article originally appeared on Oklahoman: Buying a swing set? Know that you will have to tear it down someday