The Zipper

After Son2 was born it was decided that Mommy and Son1 needed some quality time together so we instituted ‘date night’.

One of these ‘date nights’ went slightly awry.

It was all very innocent (read as: really stupid and naïve mother!)

I thought it would be fun to go to the carnival.

Now, I’m not really big on rides. The most adventurous I get is riding the carousel, plus I’m afraid of heights.

But as we entered the carnival I saw what looked like a kind of elongated Ferris wheel. Except the seats were enclosed in cages (first hint.)

Now, I know what you’re thinking, any sane intelligent person would know that it meant the ride was rather treacherous.

But not me!

Nope, I looked at it and thought, “Cool, nice and safe in a cage. Can’t fall out!”

The operator grinned widely at us and leered, ‘Wanna go for a ride”? (Second hint.)

So we hopped on and he closed the door to the cage.

It started out slowly because he was still letting people on and off. I was chatting happily with Son1 telling him there was nothing to worry about, we were going to be able to see over the tops of the houses and how cool that would be.

It reached the top and………..

We dropped to the bottom at mach1 and zoomed back to the top again! And as we reached the top, it stopped short so the cage SPUN AROUND! 

It was then the full reality of my mistake hit me.

Son1 started to whimper and cry and basically freak out.

I wasn’t too calm myself but being the ‘adult in charge’ tried to keep my cool.

I told him to close his eyes and I wrapped my arms around him and as we sped by the operator I tried to scream to stop the ride.

The operator thought we were just having fun.

It took the man riding in the seat behind us to convince the operator we weren’t having a good time and to stop the ride.

So……..

We disembark the ride, I get Son1 calmed down and we continue around the carnival where we come upon the kiddie rides!

You know, the ones that go ½ mph and only about five feet off the ground?

I swear to him that these are FUN rides and put him on the helicopter.

He sits in his little blue ‘copter with his fingers white knuckled on the steering wheel with a look of sheer terror on his face.

So much so the other parents remark about and point to the little boy who looks so scared and what kind of parent would subject their child to such abuse?

Son1 was about six when this occurred.

He didn’t go on another ride until he was twenty two.

He still doesn’t like them!

He claims I’ve scarred him for life.

I claim him I’ve given him something to tell his therapist!