LUCY closed the garden gate and looked around. Along the street, a woman up a ladder was watering a hanging basket. Lucy waited until she went back inside before going and standing underneath the piece of equipment. She looked up, artfully framing the basket between the rungs, then took a photo on her phone. Click. No lightning bolts rent the sky, no thunderclaps rolled around her ears, just a drip of water landed on her head. One down, twelve to go.
Entering the park Lucy headed for the children’s slide. She took a shot of herself through the ladder’s metal steps, then another of her dancing through the climbing frame. Seeing a ladder propped against a tree she went and crouched under it.
“You see, Mom ,” sh e crowed, taking another selfie, “four ladders down and I’m still as safe as houses.”
