Don't Scream It's Over

My official wuss-hood was established in the winter of 2012. During, a class field trip to Winterlude, mine was the sole scream heard rising into the air as I descended the ice slides. Bear in mind that the two kindergartners in my care did not scream, nor were they scared. Their classmates had a good giggle at my expense.

I own my yellow belly, though. The way I see it, just because I'm scared of something doesn't mean that I can't do it...nor that I won't.

This came into play on the most recent visit to Winterlude. Bug - who is obviously much braver than I am (or perhaps as brave as I once was, back when I was also small and didn't realize how many bones I had that could be broken) - wanted to go on the big ice slides (NOT pictured above. Those are the kid slides, which is not what I went down last year). I agreed, since Bug's dad would be waiting at the bottom to collect him, which meant I could walk back down the way we came.

Once we were at the top, I couldn't get his dad's attention. I waved. I hollered. He was looking at all the slides except the one that we were going to use.

I really, seriously did not want to go down the slide. Really. As I set my son down, I asked, "Do you see Daddy?"

"Yes," he replied, pointing.

"Okay, when you get to the bottom, go right to Daddy. I'll walk down and meet you."

"Okay!"

I worried that the excitement would make Bug forget about what he was supposed to do, so as he merrily slid down the ice, I made a decision. I would much rather look like a fool screaming her head off while feeling her heart try to escape from her mouth, than a person frantically searching for her child.

Fun fact: jeans cause a lot more friction than snow pants, so it wasn't as fast as last year. I looked like more of a wienie than usual for screaming, though. (And he even went straight to his dad the way he was supposed to!)