Climbing Mt. Midoriyama

I already shared this photo to my personal Facebook page, and now here's the story behind the iconic image...

So the photo shows the view from the carpark of a McDonalds playground. The internal entrance is at the back, on the third level up. You have to climb to the top through the maze before taking two slides to the bottom.

In my experience, no two McDonalds playgrounds are the same - there must be a crack engineering and design team at Ronald HQ - and this is one of the more spectacular examples.

My first reaction to seeing it was, O is definitely getting stuck in this.

But the two-year-old didn't get much beyond the entrance. There was a rope tunnel leading into the main structure, and he didn't really like the lack of solid ground.

Then J started encouraging him. O was halfway through the tunnel, not sure whether to keep going forward or to head back to safety... and at that point J dragged him across. He was gone.

Before I could spot him, R started begging to go to the toilet.

So I missed that action, but lived it through text messages from mum:

Yeah, sorry about the toilet talk. I should've given warning it was a reciprocal recap of live events.

So R and I finally leave the bathroom, and he joins in, and the three of them do another circuit of the playground. It's actually really nice seeing them co-operate, with the twins encouraging and gently guiding the toddler through the obstacle course.

And when they get to the bottom, they do celebrate as described in the earlier text message - jumping up and down, arms pumping, like a team that just won a gold medal.

Then they get back to the entrance. We're about to leave, but we notice O is missing a shoe.

At this point we ask the older two to go back in and look for the shoe. They've just demonstrated amazing collaboration and teamwork... but now, of course, they display none of that. First they both go the same way. When we suggest one goes the other way, they both do. When they come back I'm pretty sure they actually forgot to look for the shoe.

I check around the outside, thinking maybe his shoe dropped through one of those rope tunnels. I can't see it.

So now there's only one thing left to do.

I am going in.

I hand Katie the car keys. That way if I can't find my way out, she can take the kids home and start a new life.

Then I enter.

The entire time I'm inside the playground I keep thinking, I'm one twist away from that time where Homer gets stuck in the water slide, and they unsuccessfully try and dislodge him by sending in more kids. Classic episode, by the way.

The twins follow me on the hunt for the shoe, providing similar encouragement to what O received, but mostly getting in my way.

I can't find it. We decide just to tell the manager. Maybe they can call us if it's found?

As probably the only person working on the shift old enough to vote, he decides it's better to send an employee in than remember to make a phone call later.

She seems to enjoy the playground, but can also not find the shoe.

That's when I do another lap and I see the shoe! It did fall through the rope tunnel, and then has somehow bounced underneath the slide directly below. The shoe is not visible without crouching down and shining a light in its direction.

So the manager gets the key to pool fence surrounding the playground, and retrieves it. I thank him  Then he thanks me for not just jumping the fence.

"It's a 2m high pool fence, and I'm middle aged," I say. I'm not sure he understood my point.