alive

I never want to intentionally scare my children. I want them to fear me a little, but I never want to put any of our children in a position where they are scared for their lives. This doesn't make me a good dad. Rather it's proof that I have at least evolved to caveman: preserve and protect your progeny. We dashed this to pieces last week when, in an effort to serve our kids a good ol' fashion slice of Americana, we carted them off to Six Flags. We started out slowly: Thunder River. Log Flume. Kiddie Coaster. Then we progressed to the more aggressive rides: Ragin' Cajun. Lunar Blaster. And then, the Screaming Eagle. Brennan was already nervous in the line. He was watching people closely, trying to determine if they were preparing for death, or there to have a good time. He arrived at no conclusion by the time the safety bar snapped into place. As we click, click, clicked our way to the summit, Brennan refused to look right or left. He responded to my questions ("are you scared?" "see how small the people are?" "you know people don't fall out of these, right?") with a strained nod of the head, every muscle in his body rigid. As we screamed down the first descent, Brennan's face looked like this. After a quick jaunt up, during the second free fall he looked like this. I was fighting all of the Gs, straining my neck so that I could witness the horror I was inflicting upon my son. After the corkscrew, I was convinced that our relationship was damaged beyond repair. I don't even have an image for that face. We had progressed beyond horse in the car and swamp warrior holding a baby (ok, I'm definitely better than those parents). The ride didn't scare me a bit. I was too scared of what the ride was doing to my relationship with Brennan to notice that my stomach was inside out.

As we came to the screeching halt, and eased our way back into the port, I nervously looked over at my typically confident, completely sure of himself, son. He was white as a sheet. His hair was wind blown straight up. His eyes were as big as a cartoon owl's, and they were filled with tears. I said nothing. I waited for him to make the first move. Would it be anger? Regret? A tirade about me pushing him to do things beyond his ability? Whatever, it is, just let it be...I can't stand the silence! Without turning towards me, or changing his expression, he opened his little mouth, and uttered, "I feel so alive." Sigh of relief. Sweet victory. That's my boy! "See! Isn't it great to overcome something difficult!? Just doing it! Yes!" "No," he replied. "I feel so alive, because I'm not dead. And I really thought I was going to die." "Oh. Right. Yes. It is good that we are not dead." More silence. Then he looked at me and smiled. I grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him on the head. I felt so alive.

I would include Zoe in this post, but she didn't provide anything exploitable. She got on every roller coaster her 43 inches would allow, and simply rocked it, screaming and smiling the entire time. Including The Demon, which caused me to almost puke, and walk around dazed for a good 10 minutes afterwards. While upside down on The Demon Zoe had the gumption to look directly at me and laugh out loud, hysterically. She too was alive. Just a different kind of alive than her older Brother.