This weekend, we went on a family trip. It was our annual "That' there is a fun park, Clark" Griswold gathering in Kansas City to Worlds of Fun. We stay in mini-cabins there. I love them, and they are about 400 sq. ft. Ricardo has to duck as he walks through. We meet his high-school buddy and his family out there each year. The buddies get giddy about the coasters, grilling and beer - in that order. And us wives, enjoy our kids entertaining each other and the carefree environment of, "Sure hunny, you can have another cookie, it's vacation, wash it down with more root beer- look, there's Snoopy!"
In preparation for this trip, I've been bracing myself and trying to explain to Ricardo, the Roller Coaster Enthusiast, that indeed, just because our giant children are tall enough, does not mean they SHOULD ride every roller coaster. Please remember with me, they are FIVE YEARS OLD. His only retort is, "But if they want to, they can ride, right?" Sure, because, typically, we spend most of our time in Camp Snoopy on the kiddie rides, but okay.
I said that knowing that one look at the coasters and my children would say no. It turns out, I don't know my own children.
They got on the TimberWolf pretty easily.
As you can see, it's impressive. The most impressive thing about this ride, is that I'm certain it was built in 1809. It's all wood, and it freaking beats you to a pulp. It hurts. There's nothing fun about it. Hey kids, let's ride it! And they did. The problem is, they loved it. And we rode it over and over again.
On day one, I watched Max keep his eye on the Mamba. I have endless pictures of us in Camp Snoopy, he's ON THE RIDE, staring, watching intently at the Mamba's car going up the giant hill. "Max, you want to ride that?" NO! "Okay. Just checking."
But after the 5th time on the Timberwolf and no sight of a masseuse nor a chiropractor, I gave Ricardo the green light: "Look, if they can ride this stupid earthquake of a ride, they can ride the Mamba, because the Mamba is smooth. They'll love it."
And so, we started working on them. Max continued to stare each time the coaster went up the 205 foot climb, then drop. Maximum speed is 75 miles per hour. Wheeeee!
The stupid Timber Wolf is a 100 foot climb and a menial 45 miles per hour. The kids could totally upgrade to the Mamba. Totally. Right?
Max kept staring it down. Lucy kept searching for Snoopy. And on the last day of our trip, we may or may not have bribed our children with Webkinz. If they rode the Mamba, we'll get you a Webkinz. Lucy had already discovered, that oh, looky there, they sell Webkinz in the frikkin fun park. And she was totally in. She didn't even care what the stupid Mamba was, she was on a mission for a Webkinz. Max, not so sure, and maybe he doesn't want another Webkinz. At current, they each have one. I thought it was so cool to get them a Webkinz, but ofcourse as soon as they got it, having only one is like totally sooooo lame, MOM! Fine.
So, we got to the Mamba, Lucy surprised us with no hesitation. Max finally said, "well maybe I'll do it." And we went. We were brilliant in that there wasn't a line...in the back. And we knew if Max got closer and looked back at the hill to climb, he'd bail. So, we did what every responsible parent does and blindfolded him. KIDDING. We just hurried them on. We got them locked in, the thumbs up from the 15 year old Mamba crew & operators, and just as we start to pull out, Max says maybe he doesn't want to do this after all.
I soothe my son with something like, "Uh, yeah, it's too late now PUNK! Mwaaahahahaha!" And we go. Lucy loved it all the way. Max not so much on the first two hills. But by the middle of the ride, he started to LAUGH. He loved it! Not enough to go again, ever - according to him.
Had he known the language, "Where's my effn Webkinz, biotch?" would have come out of his mouth. That's not what he said, but we did go get them each their promised pet. And then ice cream. High fives and knuckles were flowing abundantly.
I've never been so proud of my kids, and they were so proud of themselves. And that's when it hit me. I looked at them, and just saw something different. My sweet children at the tender age of 5, unknowingly just faced a giant fear, and literally laughed at it. This milestone is bigger than silly milestones like learning to tie a shoe, or passing kindergarten or reading. Whatever. I'm watching them and they look older, bigger, bolder, and more mature. Together they can do anything. They trust us to keep them safe, because we just did. Suddenly, it's all about us as a family unit. All that from a stupid roller coaster. Ricardo is brilliant.
That's how I roll.
Rock on, Griswold Family. You kicked some tail at Fun World.
Remember to park at the back of the parking lot, "first ones out."
Sorry Folks, Park's closed. Moose out front should have told you.
Family all the way! Way to go!
Don't rush them too much with those big milestones. You'll blink one day, and they will be grown. You'll think they don't need you, but they always will.
Hey us Mamba operators are older than 15 ;) Glad your kids enjoyed the ride!