The boys love the rides. Before the glue set on their wristbands, they were on the Sizzler. Slightly dazed, they quickly climbed aboard the ferris wheel. In under ten minutes, they already had two rides under their belts.
They tried every ride we passed, and many they went out the exit and ran to get into line for another ride. The bumper cars and Yoyo rides have been yearly traditions. This year, Danny decided to try the Zipper with his cousin. I didn't like the looks of it; they are barred in a cage which not only goes around a track, but also goes 360 degrees very quickly. Of course, as they are locked in, a friend says that she went on that ride when she was in high school and got stuck upside down for over an hour because of technical difficulties. Gasp! That is not what I wanted to hear.
I watched their heads hitting the metal cages. I must confess that I couldn't even take a picture. (The image below is from Google images.) I immediately went into protective mom mode, praying that they would be safe. I must confess that I might've also asked that they not be so comfortable that they'd want to do it again. They emerged rubbing their heads and slightly off balance, but in tact and able to walk. When they asked to go on it again, I said, "NO way!" They didn't argue or make a face. I think that they were secretly relieved.
Then after a bit of food, they were ready to hit the games. This year, I gave them a budget and said that when they had spent their money, they were done playing games. Of course the goldfish tent caught their attention as the man coaxed, "Mom, everyone wins a goldfish. Let the kids have a pet." I gave him my mean-mom-mean-teacher-look. He raised his eyebrows. I shook my head. Whew the boys were busy talking!
They found a new game this year where they shoot corks out of a gun and try to knock cups off of shelves. It was a great idea, except that the corks frequently bounce back at you if they hit a shelf. This game truly sucked them in. There's something with boys and wanting to shoot guns to hit targets; I'd like to think that it's just a primal instinct to survive, but clearly there's no survival involved at the fair. Instead, there's a very nice man who is making a lot of money and giving out small trinkets. They won other toys by popping balloons, hitting a metal disc with a hammer to ring a bell, and the water gun in the clown's mouth to pop the balloon in back. They were happy to try, and I was happy to avoid the nagging for just another dollar.
So our annual tradition. The kids ride until they feel woozy. I follow them around, carrying their loot. I people watch and chat with people from the community--former students, parents, friends, other teachers. Every year I ask myself: Why am I standing here for hours watching my kids make themselves sick? They are still young enough that they allow me to follow them around and keep tabs on them, but they're independent enough to go on the rides without me. I know that in the not too distant future, they'll want me to just drop them off and vanish. For now, it's a childhood tradition that builds memories, which are priceless.
What a gift! Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy were all dropped by the wayside this year, but the Tburg Fair remains a tradition that they might cling to into their teens and adult years. I'm happy to be part of this long standing tradition.
Namaste,
L
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