Making Memories

The bumper car attendant, not enjoying his job.

My birthday is in two days time and the kids have been excited about it for the last month. Why? Because my birthday can only mean one thing – it’s showtime!

I love the show, but I’m not real fussed on the rides.

And I think the writing is on the wall Miss3 will take after me. She screamed the entire ride I took her on, and the only part of the experience she seemed to enjoy was when we stepped off.

I’ve been exerting considerable effort the last couple of years convincing my kids the fireworks at the end of each night of the show are for me: that this is G-towns way of thanking their favourite son. I’d probably have made more progress with this if Tracey wasn’t always rolling her eyes and scoffing when I went into my spiel. Not sure, but I think it undermines my credibility.

I don’t understand why there’s so much negativity around the show this year. Yes, it’s expensive. Yes, it’s a rip off. Yes, I’ve answered my own question. But these are the moments which the kids will think back on and smile. The thing is, it’s FUN.

I love the camaraderie among parents as we wait and wave at our little men and princesses going round and round an old relic from the 70’s, the toothless young men trying to get me to throw balls at things to prove my manliness, the long alleyways of bright lights and scream inducing spinning machines.

The older kids, they like the Dodgems.

I was watching the guys running the bumper cars before I put Master8 and Miss9 into their care. I noticed a pattern. They each spent most of the ride on the backs of the cars being driven by young ladies in tight tops, leaning over occasionally to correct their steering so they’d hit another car and..well, jiggle. That’s how it looked anyway. If they jumped off a car it was only to latch onto the back of car with bigger and better presented assets.

Things changed when Master8 and Miss9 got behind the wheels of their own cars. When their time started Master8 shot backwards and somehow managed to block five cars while Miss9 did donuts. Instead of perving at young women, the two attendants spent the rest of the ride permanently leaning over from behind my guys, correcting their steering. They didn’t look happy. Nothing jiggled.

Master8 picks up his first hitchhiker.

Meanwhile, I took Miss3 and Miss6 on one of those rides which spins round and round.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tracey asked me when she returned from the Dodgems with the other kids.

I was grey. I’d forgotten how much I hate show rides and this sick feeling I get. Someone might guess, looking at my face, I scurried away with the girls to the Gravitron or something.

“It’s those wretched Tea Cups,” I said. I knew it sounded pathetic, coming from a man well into his forties.

Thing is, it would have been fine only the nice man in charge of the ride decided Miss3 might enjoy it more if he made the ride spin faster and faster every time we went around. It didn’t work. I could have told him that but each time we came around to the gate he was just a blur of uncommunicative yellow.

My lovely wife proved once again why I love her so much because she didn’t mock me much at all.

“You poor dear,” she said. “From now on maybe you should stick to putting your balls in the clown’s mouths.” I’m sure she meant the ping-pong balls, but as you can see, I got off virtually Scott free.

Plus it means I already have something to look forward to for the next two day’s trips to the show – the Clowns and not going on the Tea Cups with Miss3 🙂 Oh, and some of my birthday fireworks on Saturday night, of course.

Miss3, making memories 🙂 Her psychiatrist will have to delve pretty deep to work out why she gets anxious when presented with a cup of Earl Grey.

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