Little Bird Courage

Instead of a day of inner tubing at the lake, I took the boys, and their friend/neighbor, to Roseland Waterpark yesterday. We all had a blast. Wave pool. Lazy river. Raft rides. Tube rides. Just a whole heck of a lot of fun.

The Cliff, below, was Son #1's favorite.

The boy next door is afraid of heights, however, and as we climbed the stairs to the top of the Mammoth Raft Ride, and we were standing well above the tree line of the forest below, he grew progressively more fearful. At the top, he was crawling with his hands on the steps in front of him and visibly shaking. But he really wanted to go on the ride so he continued. And then he enjoyed it so much, the kids went 3X more. All fears bravely conquered in the name of fun. I give him a lot of credit.

At over $70 to enter, for a family of four with coupons, and then another $25 for crappy lunches where the Italian sausage was the size of my ring finger and completely emasculated in a hot dog bun, this was definitely a summer splurge. Yet it was worth it for the people watching alone.

At a mere 20 pounds overweight, I was still one of the thinnest women in the park -- teenagers included. (I blame the manufacturers and retailers of size 12 bikinis for what's acceptable poolside these days. There should be an extra step, like an additional signature required when purchasing, no?) I was also one of the only adults without a tattoo. Everyone, bar none, is tattooed these days from ex-Marine looking men who are absolutely covered in ink to intrepid suburban moms who probably felt a daring rush of adventure entering the tattoo parlor after one cosmo too many with their perfectly rebellious request, "Could you do something tiny on my shoulder blade or ankle that is highly tasteful but also lets the other housewives know that I'm edgy and cool?" Hmmm. How about a subversive heart/ladybug/clover/flower?

While I was duly impressed by the father who spent the entire day texting while his wife and kids kept passing him and cajoling him to join them (which he never did), there was another family that stole my attention. The grandmother and two daughters were so overweight that their stomachs dropped almost to their knees; however, their little kids ranging from, I'm guessing, ages four to 14 were all thin and wearing expensive, designer swim suits. The strangest part of this family was their high, high, high pitched voices. At first I thought they were deaf but the weren't reading lips or signing. Then I thought they were mentally handicapped but, once I made out what they were saying, I noticed that their vocabulary and syntax was stellar. I now have to believe that they all suffer from a severe speech impediment -- but one that causes all members of an extended family to, literally, squawk like birds before each utterance. If I hadn't seen and heard it, I wouldn't believe it. I just hope the birds kids aren't mercilessly ridiculed at school.

Courage little birds. Courage.