Learning to Let Go this Labor Day
Our Labor Day weekend started out as a relaxing break, catching fish and reading words in the sun-Richard II for class and the medieval Book of Margery Kempe for the M.A. exam. I prayed that the texts would come with laudanum or something to get me through my misery. No such luck. At least the fish were biting!
Sunday morning, we ate whipped cream from the can. Laid in our jammies. Watched the morning mist rise from the lake.
Later, we drove to the fair in Shannon-you might remember it from last year, with the freaky old lady signs and pony rides that last ten minutes.
Tommy almost fell asleep on his pony, hunching over, drooling.
The boys rode on kiddie rides with songs about small worlds and Winnie the Pooh. It was perfect childhood fun. But then, out of nowhere, my six-year-old discovered this ride...
Like the tiny rides were too boring or something. He needed something SUPER-SIZED with raging country music and hair-raising spins.
Before sending him on, I found a trusty ten-year-old stranger to pair up with. Reminding the boy that my son was only SIX. To take it easy on him. The kid looked like we were on the same page.
But when they got a thousand feet in the air, that little, bratty, no good, rotten kid pulled a lever, spinning the cage-with my first born son at his mercy. They charged into the air, upside down, turning in circles.
I couldn’t watch. My stomach twisted. My little boy was going to die on a carnival ride, I just knew it.
The carnival worker didn’t care. He just shuffled through his i-pod, choosing more country classics to celebrate the last days of summer. That was it. I was sure. Six years of a happy childhood would end in a metal cage in the clouds.
But then, out of nowhere, the ride stopped. Son got off. Smiling, holding his head, blown away with blood-pumping endorphins.
“Did you see me, Mom? Did ya? Did ya? That guy pulled this thing to make us spin around up there. It was awesome!”
I bit my lip and looked around for the ten-year-old bastard. He was gone. Loooong gone.
“That’s great, honey,” I mustered with a fake smile. “Awesome! Yep. Just awesome!”
What else was I gonna say? He had reached a new plateau in childhood, and it was my job to celebrate with him.
Now that he’s tall enough to ride the big rides, I’d better suck it up…and let go. But letting go is the hardest part, isn’t it?