Carnival!

The Carnival has come to town, and Miss Peanut and I have been enjoying the festivities. Cotton candy, games of chance, and thrill rides suck us in every time. We've gone twice this week, so far, and will be tearful and heartbroken when it all ends tomorrow. So far, Miss Peanut's favorite is the giant climbing thing with an enormous slide that you have to go down in order to exit it. Mine is the centrifuge with swings attached.

I can honestly say that my least favorite is the Ferris Wheel. I think Miss Peanut said it best for me. We had just reached the apex of its rotation when I heard her little voice next to me say quietly "I forgot I'm afraid of heights." Yeah, Peanut, me too. The WCM pointed out my death-grip on the restraint bar as he grinned at me in his macho superiority. It didn't help my frame of mind any that the ride itself looks to be about one hundred years old and feels just as rickety. I was never so glad as to get off of that thing.

One of the things I've noticed since becoming a parent is that while I blithely get on whatever huge scary roller coaster I can, and I've been on some doozies, I really hate getting on scary rides with Miss Peanut. I hate watching her get on the kiddie rides, because, Oh My God, what if something happened? What if the roller coaster disconnects from its track? What if the links in the chain holding that swing to the centrifuge break and she flies off? What if? What if? The anxiety that I feel when she goes on those rides is both ridiculous and paralyzing.

Watching her gleefully happy face while she whirls about, though? That's pure gold.