I took the boys to Remlinger Farms yesterday, which is more amusement park than farm, but kids these days don’t really know the difference, do they?
No wait—amusement park.
It was an overcast day and the “farm” wasn’t too crowded, so there were essentially no lines and Vincenzo got to ride the canoes as many times in a row as he wanted. (Yes, he exceeds the weight limit by a significant amount.)
Except there was this one ride that had a ginormous line, so of course Rocco wanted to ride that one. It was the pony ride.
We waited a full hour in line and then, then, after waiting an hour in line, we saw this sign.
Death? By pony? Couldn’t they have warned us before the hour wait?
Anyway, death by pony sounded pretty cool, so I texted Kevin that I have a new favorite way I want to die. Then I texted, Baby, I’m scared! Things got even worse when I saw this sign.
The INHERENT RISK LAW, surprise surprise, mentions death in several places.
I did my best to fight off the “flight” response I was having and I stayed put, dangerously spectating as my son was set upon this four-legged equine machine of death and terror. Its name was Pumpkin.
I continued to spectate, my own life hanging in the balance, while Rocco and Pumpkin were led away. They returned 60 seconds later, one looking just as defeated and the other looking just as serious as when they began their treacherous journey.
Rocco dismounted, we left the dangerous lands of Pony Riding, and Rocco talked nonstop about how awesome that 60 seconds of his life had been for the rest of the afternoon.
I was left with a lot of questions after the pony ride warnings. Questions like How? and Has anyone ever…? and Seriously? But there was one thing I had no question about. There is no question that I desperately need this sign for my front door.
After putting my life on the line the way I did at the pony rides, don’t you think I earned it?
WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Spinach salad with tomatoes and shaved parmesan
Raspberry Jell-o pie