It’s that season again: the playset shopping extravaganza. Every year, countless parents prepare to invest significant sums into backyard jungle gyms for their little ones. For a long time, I skillfully avoided this suburban rite of passage—until one fateful day when I caved.
I can’t really point fingers at my children. They never pestered me for a playset, and I’m not even sure they truly wanted one. The truth is, I craved it. My kids would roam the backyard, only to retreat inside to the couch. I longed to shout, “Go play!” but with what? We had no pool, swings, or even a paved driveway. For my sanity and their well-being, a playset became a necessity.
I envisioned blissful summer days spent on swings, the sound of laughter carried by warm breezes. But I was clear on one thing: if I was going to splurge, my kids would have to embrace it fully—living on it, if need be.
The playset we had our eyes on featured a house-like structure, complete with a picnic table—practically a miniature house. It could serve as a cozy retreat for my little ones during the winter months, and I even fantasized about adding electricity and plumbing to keep them occupied for good.
However, as often happens with dreams, reality proved less than ideal. My research began well before spring, hoping to snag a deal during the off-season. I was wrong. Pricing for playsets is outrageous—no discounts to be found. I considered my friend’s suggestion of buying used; you could find a playset for half the price. That sounded perfect.
Unfortunately, my husband wasn’t on board. He opposed the entire concept, fearing it would ruin his pristine lawn. However, if I insisted on acknowledging our children needed toys, he declared it must be a deluxe model worthy of his yard.
Undeterred, I pressed on with my search for pre-owned options, eventually discovering a used playset in decent condition, complete with a rock wall, for about a thousand bucks. I thought I’d won! But then my husband reminded me of the logistics—it was located far outside our area, and we lacked a vehicle large enough to transport it. With a heavy heart, I abandoned the quest for a used playset.
For those who haven’t shopped for a playset, it’s a daunting endeavor. So many types, sizes, and configurations exist, and even the basic structures come without actual play features. You could buy a cheap wooden frame, but all your kids would do is gaze at it longingly.
After weeks of online comparison, I finally spotted my dream swing set. It had everything I’d hoped for, but the price tag was prohibitive. I paid multiple visits, waiting for a sale. Finally, mid-summer, it happened: a “free gangplank weekend” deal. I thought I had struck gold.
But when the sales representative presented the final bill, I was floored—just under $2,000. Yes, it was “free gangplank weekend,” but still!
Now, the playset has been installed in our yard for nearly a year, yet it remains largely untouched. Well, let’s say it hasn’t been utilized to the level that justifies a $2,000 investment. The swings and trapeze bar have seen some action, but that’s about it. The kids still wander aimlessly around the yard, leaving the fort—once the centerpiece of my dreams—empty, save for the occasional bird or squirrel. Perhaps a TV installation is in order?
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In summary, while the playset may have seemed like a brilliant investment, the realities of usage and enjoyment have left much to be desired. Still, the swings and trapeze bar provide some satisfaction, even if the fort remains largely vacant.