My Nephews Crack Me Up

In an effort to maintain my role as favorite auntie, I took the boys to the fair last weekend. I wanted the boys to have a good time. They got to feed and pet animals and I got them one of those unlimited arm bands that let them get on any ride they wanted as many times they wanted. Yep, still the reigning queen. Anyway, it was interesting to watch each kid try to figure out how he was going to manage which ride he rode and how often. The two bigger boys decided they were going to get on every ride at the fair. I said okay.

The Little One, who is six years old, in his child-like wisdom, decided that he didn’t want to get on any rides that went too high in the air or went too fast. He even took the time to watch the ride for a few moments to decide if it was safe enough for him to ride. And yes, we are talking kiddy rides. I think most of them go about two miles per hour, right? I have to admit though, I was a little impressed with his ability to determine appropriate criteria for judgement and his powers of reasoning. Then, when he was done with rides, he entertained everyone with his version of dancing. He got a few cheers and some high fives. I should have put down a hat and collected money.

About half way through the big boy rides, the Big One, who is 14 now, decided to take the Little One’s advice and stay away from the ones that went to fast or too high. He shifted his fun focus towards rides that don’t go to fast, or too high. After a while, he decided his best bet was to stay off the rides and stick to the games. I think this transformation occurred right after he got off a ride that not only went around and around on a track, but also spun his little car around in circles at the same time. Yeah, he came off that ride with a new lease on life.

The Middle One, who is 11 now, jumped from ride to ride with a no fear, no care, dare-devil mentality. This one had something to prove and prove he did. Every time he got on an off a ride, he got even more excited, then jumped on another. Then, in between rides, he’d look at me and say, “Auntie, this is the best night ever! Thank you!” I just smiled and followed behind him taking pictures. We were down to the last three big rides. One went in a circle horizontally, one went in a circle vertically and the last one took you up over 100 feet in the air and dropped you. The Middle One decided to tackle the horizontal ride first. I don’t remember the name of the ride, probably something like The Puker or  The Pure Evil Ride From Hell because that’s the impression it made on him. Every time he passed me, which was about every five seconds or less, his face had turned a different shade of gray. When the conductor told everyone to raise their hand if they wanted to go faster, he did not. This was one of those sleigh rides with about 30 cars that went in a circle. I don’t know if it was the sensation of going up and down while going around and around, or the sensation of the strobe lights plus the loud music, but by the time the ride ended, the Middle One had stumbled off the ride and was holding his stomach with a dazed look on his face. He started walking aimlessly in no particular direction. I walked over to him and grabbed his shoulders and gently led him to a nearby bench. I looked at him half with concern and half with humor and asked hm if he was okay. He just sat there staring at me like he didn’t comprehend the English language anymore, so I repeated myself and asked him where it hurt. He pointed to his head. Then he pointed to his stomach. I told him just to sit there a while and get himself together. When he was finally able to speak, he looked up at me and said in a very serious and somewhat shaky voice, “Auntie, that ride is not safe.” That’s when I lost it and started cracking up. He was fine. We left shortly afer that. He decided not to get on the remaining two rides. Some lessons are better learned through experience.