We went to a carnival this past weekend. There were lots of rides and games and food, like any good carnival. I gave my daughter, Erin, a pack of ride coupons. She met up with her friends, and they set off to try every ride at the carnival.
I hung out with my son, Colin, and we looked at each other dubiously.
Me: “So, Colin. There are lots of fun rides here. Do you want to go on the ferris wheel with me? We could see so many great things from up in the sky.”
Me: “Do you want to go on the bumper cars with me? You love driving cars!”
Me: “How about the spinning apples. We can spin around really fast.”
Me: “Okay… What rides would you like to go on?”
Colin: “Well… I don’t like any rides that go up high.”
Me: “Okay, nothing that goes high.”
Colin: “And I don’t like any rides that go fast.”
Me: “Okay, nothing that goes fast.”
Me: “So nothing that goes high and nothing that goes fast. You know we’re at a carnival, right?”
Me: “Well, that doesn’t leave a whole lot of rides.”
So we went in the funhouse. 12 torturous times in a row. Then I bribed him with ice cream and a snow cone so we could stop. I’m pretty sure it was his best day ever.