You like to fly, I got something that'll really make you fly

Sometimes I like to get out of the house hit the backyard swing and just let the winds take me where they will, wishing, hoping that it will all change, that I'll exit my craft a new man, able to walk and speak and use a pincer grasp, without a care in the world because I'm old enough to read by myself and start fires and tell the Folks what I really think. The horizon opens up when you realize that after you pull to stand you can do more than stare at your hands, you can take off at run, or a jog if you're going for distance, and just keep going until you're no longer just living toy to toy, diaper to diaper, you're really living, a life you can be proud of instead of the everyday, every few hours shame of realizing you're sitting in your own excrement, able to play in it, but unable to ever be truly free of it. And if that isn't bad enough there's the constant knowledge that you can't pick whats for dinner and sooner or later peas is going to make its way back around and you'll have to give that "you realize i'm putting complete trust in you that this mush won't kill me" face with the first few bites before your brain shuts down the taste center in pity for you so you can make it through the meal.
Anyhoo, I like being in the swing.