From the Top of the Ride
Last summer we made our first pilgrimage to Orlando, Florida, where we spent a week exploring Disney World and Universal Studios, splashing in the pool and trying on each other's mouse ears. It's impossible to count all the ways in which a Disney trip is special, for Disney is truly just as much a lifestyle as it is a theme park. We were blessed with minimal meltdowns, only one episode of heat exhaustion, reasonable souvenir expectations, and sunny weather. It honestly doesn't get much better than that.
What made the trip special for me, however, was the fact that for the first time in nearly four years I was neither pregnant nor nursing, which left me free to enjoy the wilder rides with Peanut. Jolly stepped up to commandeer the double stroller while I scampered off with our eldest child, who hadn't seen me do anything remotely fun since before he could remember. I let Peanut be our guide, going without complaint on anything and everything he wished to try. This is notable because Peanut isn't afraid of anything, and it had been over ten years since I'd braved a roller coaster.
Roller coasters haven't changed all that much since my heydey, but I have. Gone is the desire for wild excitement; the flight or fight response is a little too real. For Peanut, however, the world is still a safe haven where near misses and thrills are all in good fun. He bounced with anticipation where I withdrew in apprehension, whooped with glee as I nervously clung to the safety rails, and waved his hands in the air while I squeezed my eyes shut. I don't know if this dampened or heightened his fun - he seemed rather proud to be braver than his mum, but he missed out on having a companion with whom to weave tall tales of danger. Anytime he mentioned possible death or injury I felt compelled to monologue about safety features.
By the time we were standing in line for the Incredible Hulk coaster at Universal Studios I had come to rather sobering realization: I am no longer a woman who takes her child on rides, I am a mom who accompanies her son on rides. It's a fine line, but a solid one, demarcating the leader and the follower. Peanut was taking the lead.
This is how it should be. I'm not complaining nor am I sad. At some point - sooner than we expect - our children march out into the world and expect us to be the ones who toddle after them. We may wish to pull them back or holler at them to stop, but they'll keep going. The important thing is not to make them walk behind us, but to appreciate the time when they'll be content to have us walk beside them. As we waited in line for the Hulk, Peanut talked tough about how he would keep his hands up through all seven loops, but he still hugged me with excitement.
Peanut's enthusiasm did not dampen as were warned by an eerie voice of danger ahead, nor as we were locked into the lime green coaster. He kept his hands up, as promised, and I half-heartedly did the same. As we clacked up the initial incline I reminded myself that I'd been braving coasters all week and that this one would be no worse. But as we reached the crest the coaster did not descend into a gentle fall as expected - we shot forward at 60 miles an hour, pushed down the hill and into the first loop before I could catch my breath. Peanut's hands never stopped waving in the air.
The time will come when Peanut no longer wants me at his side, and it's going to happen just like that roller coaster - he'll shoot forward into a great adventure while I cling to the safety harness. With that in mind, I hope for a couple of things. I hope that I stay motivated to keep up with him while I can. I hope I have the sense to fall back when it's time. And I hope that I never stop touting those safety features, just in case he ends up needing them. It's not often that a parent has the chance to view the horizon of their child's future, but the top of a 150 ft roller coaster is a pretty good place to do it.
What made the trip special for me, however, was the fact that for the first time in nearly four years I was neither pregnant nor nursing, which left me free to enjoy the wilder rides with Peanut. Jolly stepped up to commandeer the double stroller while I scampered off with our eldest child, who hadn't seen me do anything remotely fun since before he could remember. I let Peanut be our guide, going without complaint on anything and everything he wished to try. This is notable because Peanut isn't afraid of anything, and it had been over ten years since I'd braved a roller coaster.
Roller coasters haven't changed all that much since my heydey, but I have. Gone is the desire for wild excitement; the flight or fight response is a little too real. For Peanut, however, the world is still a safe haven where near misses and thrills are all in good fun. He bounced with anticipation where I withdrew in apprehension, whooped with glee as I nervously clung to the safety rails, and waved his hands in the air while I squeezed my eyes shut. I don't know if this dampened or heightened his fun - he seemed rather proud to be braver than his mum, but he missed out on having a companion with whom to weave tall tales of danger. Anytime he mentioned possible death or injury I felt compelled to monologue about safety features.
By the time we were standing in line for the Incredible Hulk coaster at Universal Studios I had come to rather sobering realization: I am no longer a woman who takes her child on rides, I am a mom who accompanies her son on rides. It's a fine line, but a solid one, demarcating the leader and the follower. Peanut was taking the lead.
This is how it should be. I'm not complaining nor am I sad. At some point - sooner than we expect - our children march out into the world and expect us to be the ones who toddle after them. We may wish to pull them back or holler at them to stop, but they'll keep going. The important thing is not to make them walk behind us, but to appreciate the time when they'll be content to have us walk beside them. As we waited in line for the Hulk, Peanut talked tough about how he would keep his hands up through all seven loops, but he still hugged me with excitement.
Peanut's enthusiasm did not dampen as were warned by an eerie voice of danger ahead, nor as we were locked into the lime green coaster. He kept his hands up, as promised, and I half-heartedly did the same. As we clacked up the initial incline I reminded myself that I'd been braving coasters all week and that this one would be no worse. But as we reached the crest the coaster did not descend into a gentle fall as expected - we shot forward at 60 miles an hour, pushed down the hill and into the first loop before I could catch my breath. Peanut's hands never stopped waving in the air.
The time will come when Peanut no longer wants me at his side, and it's going to happen just like that roller coaster - he'll shoot forward into a great adventure while I cling to the safety harness. With that in mind, I hope for a couple of things. I hope that I stay motivated to keep up with him while I can. I hope I have the sense to fall back when it's time. And I hope that I never stop touting those safety features, just in case he ends up needing them. It's not often that a parent has the chance to view the horizon of their child's future, but the top of a 150 ft roller coaster is a pretty good place to do it.
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