Why Daddy Really Does Know Best (Sometimes)

We spent this past weekend on a small vacation in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.  It's a little beach town, with a one mile boardwalk that provides wonderful morning stroller rides, evening people watching and delicious smells of french fries and fried dough.  The boardwalk is also home to Funland -- a pavilion filled with rides and games.  In the height of the summer it is teeming each night with kids of all ages and their camera-wielding parents.  For 60 cents (one ticket) the smallest children can ride the carousel with those paparazzi parents.  For a bit more (cents and tickets), the older children can graduate to the spinning tea cups, or the helicopters, or eventually, the Haunted House.  

My husband, George, grew up going to Rehoboth Beach, and to Funland.  Most of the rides there are still the exact same ones he rode on as a little boy.  Last summer, our little boy, Evan was still too small for any rides, even the carousel.  This summer, however, George had big ideas for Evan's ride capabilities.  

The three of us set out for Funland one evening and I envisioned us riding together on the carousel, and maybe watching some bigger kids on other rides.  That was all I envisioned, because I was certain that Evan would not be able to handle anything else.

He is, after all, my baby.  And, he is a shy sort of a fellow.  While very rough and tumble at home, he's typically very reserved in new situations and very, very attached to his mommy or daddy.  So, I had horrible visions of strapping him into a ride and watching a meltdown as he spun away and I was unable to reach him.

When we arrived, however, George headed directly for a ride that involves tiny little boats spinning in a small circle in a small pool of water.  Each boat has a steering wheel that the kids can turn and turn, and a rope that makes a bell ring -- it is perfectly designed for toddlers.

We had a hushed conversation at the side of this ride, during which I insisted that Evan would hate it and would cry as soon as he realized that he was going to spin away from us.  George was sure that Evan would love it.  Even as I protested though, I knew I would give in.  I knew that George remembered being on this same ride as a tiny kid and that he had to try it with Evan.  And, I'll admit, I was fully prepared to be able to say "I told you so" at the end.

So, we handed over two tickets and loaded Evan into his own little boat.  From the instant he sat down, he lit up.  The steering wheel was fascinating and he rang the bell incessantly.  Off he went around the pool.  And...he was smiling...and laughing...and completely fine and happy.

I never got to say I told you so.  But, this was one time when I was really glad that I let daddy have his way.