Funfairs are not always fun. Or fair.

Little Man was always a cautious child.

He didn’t start walking until 17 months – and then he did it perfectly. It was as if he practiced at night in his cot when nobody was looking and didn’t reveal his skills until he’d nailed it. That’s my boy – not a huge risk-taker. He has never really been one to climb every (okay, any) tree or jump into rough-housing with the boys. He was always terrified of open staircases, high platforms and long slides at the playground. Riding a bike was not something to even begin contemplating until he turned seven and even then, it was – how do I put this delicately? – interesting. My gentle boy was always far more at home with his feet firmly rooted to the ground, building genius constructions with Lego, blocks and Zoobs.

An intergalactic Zoob creature – one of many creations by Little Man.

Every time we’ve ever gone to a fun fair, he’s politely, yet strongly declined offers to go on the scary rides (and by scary, I mean the kiddie-coaster) and been more than happy to watch as we’ve put our lives on the line.

In stark contrast, Hubby and I are scaryrideaholics. We even went to Disneyworld on honeymoon (romantic sunsets on deserted beaches are so overrated, people). So, you can imagine our delight when this week, at the Perth Royal Show, Little Man suddenly (and out of nowhere) expressed the desire to go on his first ever scary  ride. I had to stay on the ground (grumble) with Baby G while Hubby, Miss M and Little Man got on the ride and this allowed for some excellent photographic opportunities.

We probably should have known better and rather initiated Little Man into the world of scary rides with something tamer, but he did choose this and you know what they say to do when opportunity knocks…

This enchanting and delightful ride – Little Man’s first scary ride EVER – spins blurringly fast, with each pod spinning independently at warp-speed at the same time. All while the base rises up until it is vertical, like a ferris wheel on crack.

I need to interject here.

You know how, when you’re on a ride at a funfair, it always ends too soon? How it seems like you have to get off as soon as you’ve started to get into it? Yeah – well, let’s just say we got our money’s worth (FYI – $6 per person…$18 for the three of them) here. In the time it took for this ride to finally end, I managed to take 86 photos. Yes, you read right. Eighty six. This ride took f o r e v e r. Which would have been brilliant had Little Man not been getmeouttahere-terrified and hating every minute. I could see the abject fear and horrified regret on his face – even at warp speed. Let’s just say I was concerned about the fact that I hadn’t packed spare pants.

Here’s the part where I admit I am a bad mum.
I laughed. Boy did I laugh. I had tears pouring down my cheeks. I am not sure if it was because I could see how desperately hard Hubby was trying to calm him down while also flying wildly through space, or the total lack of concern or awareness displayed by his sister, the thrill-seeker. Was it the irony of this being his choice and the dawning on him that he had chosen oh-so-badly? Maybe it was nervous laughter because I was totally helpless to stop any of it. Or that it seemed like it was never going to end. I don’t know. But when I look at the photos of his face, I start shrieking all over again.

When he got off, I innocently asked him if he liked it. Green-faced, he replied, “I. Did. Not. Like. That. Ride.”

I did.

Bad mummy.

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  1. gill says

    His uncle…he who bungy jumped, he who did dogfights in the sky in WW 2 ‘planes – could not climb stairs/go up a tree/up a jungle gym til he was about Little Man’s age. There suddenly comes a time when the fear begins to lessen and the self belief begins. Shame on you for laughing *LOLOLOL*

  2. says

    LOL! I can so identify with little man. I happily watch everyone’s stuff while they go on the rides. I absolutely HATE them. Once upon a time, my husband-then-boyfriend and I almost broke up because I refused to go on any rides with him at the fair. That ride you showed above? …..Never, not in a million years or for a million bucks!

  3. says

    Hilarious – the wicked Mishi pops out again 😉 I had a little boy just like that. Now he’s a towering man, still prudent, but no longer afraid. He took after his mum, who only embraced scary rides in her 40s. I had good reason though: When I was 21 I went on a ride just like the one your Little Man chose at the Auckland Easter Show. My safety belt malfunctioned and flew off. As all my possessions were flung out of the ride, my boyfriend and his brother were grimly hanging on to me so that I didn’t follow. It was horrendous. People below were screaming for them to stop the ride. We didn’t even get a refund!

    Fourteen years later I was talked into going on a ferris wheel – a kiddy ferris wheel – with the little boy and his dad. I couldn’t bear it. I actually DID make them stop it so I could get off. Father and son stayed on – so I was definitely more cowardly. Later that same evening, son decided to go on a giant bouncy slide, but once he’d crawled through all the tunnels to get UP, he did not want to release his grip at the top and go DOWN. So guess who had to climb up and slide down with him. Yeah mum. Oh, did I mention I was 8 months pregnant at the time? 😛

      • marimusing says

        It’s true I’m not afraid of anything much any more! Funny how motherhood makes you so much braver. I actually leapt on to a speeding cyclist after he knocked over my 4-year-old lad (the cyclist himself was flipped over the handlebars). Apparently I was roaring. It was only his fearful voice asking if my son was all right that stopped mamma-bear in her tracks. Felt a bit sheepish really – my reaction was to kill the threat first, then tend to the child afterwards.

        As for your little man – he is GREAT. Love him. He’s made the leap, tried it out, hated it, but hey, he did it. Brave enough. He’ll probably be a bit like my big boy, the one who watches his mates’ backs while they tear around like loons.


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