We get in line. He hates to wait. But he does. And then it's our turn. I place him on the ride and leave to stand behind the gate. I tell him, "It's going to take you on a ride" and I hold my breath. Because there is a time in every mamas life when she has to let go a little and let her baby try new things. Even if her heart is telling her no. I ask him before the ride starts, "Do you want to get off?" "No mama" he says. And I hold my breath. I want to die. I don't know how this is going to go.
The ride starts. And before his motorcycle makes two rotations, the ride is over.
Because there comes a time in the life of a kiddie-ride operator when they lock eyes with a mama who's about to scale a gate and go all G.D. Spiderman to rescue her scared baby. And in that split second they have a decision to make too. Stop the ride. Or stop the ride.
We'll try again next year, bud. But if you need rescued then too, don't worry. Mama will hang onto her lycra and cape.
Just in case.