Friday, May 14, 2010

Sharks are scary when you're nine.

While in Florida we visited Universal Studios. It was a fine adventure filled with Chirros, pizza, cartoon characters and very wet water rides. One of the attractions there was a thrill ride themed around the Jaws movies. As adults, we expected a nice tour around in a boat filled with some movie sets. The boy expected to see a real shark and possibly some fish (he is not familiar with the Jaws movies and prefers not to watch anything which may even LOOK like it's a horror film).

The boy, outside of the ride posing for a fun pic.
The boy procrastinating by VOLUNTEERING to be in fun pics. This is unusual behaviour, as he usually runs and hides when I get the camara out. This is probably a defense mechanism that has grown over time as a result of having to pose endlessly for family portraits taken by his beloved grandfather.

Some lovely scenery along the boat ride.

Some wreckage from the tour boat in front of us which has radioed MAYDAY for help from some unforseen accident.

The shark which ate the tourists in front of us. The Boy is now very nervous and is having trouble distiguishing the story from reality. He keeps looking at my smiling face as if puzzled about why we are still in the boat and why we haven't ordered the tour guide to get us out immediately.

The shark burst out of the water directly beside The Boy. He screamed so loud, people on the shore probably thought we were stabbing him to death. He is now SOOO terrified he is unwilling to listen to the soothing noises I am making as he tries to climb over everyone in the boat to GET OUT! There is only water on the other side of the boat. As a concerned parent, I cannot simply let him get out (the lap bar security system is apparently not made for rediculously skinny 9-year-olds). I hug him very tightly and explain that it is not real and we're not going to get eaten by sharks.

The water is now swishing around from the thrashing of the shark. Explosions are going off on both sides and The Boy is screaming as if he's developed a new mantra. Ahhhh. Ahhhh. Ahhhh. Ahhhh. I am now feeling horribly guilty for bringing him on the ride and am considering going to the police to turn myself in for bad parenting.
We then enter this dark area when we can feel the boat being lifted up. Sparks are going off on both sides, and the shark is back. The dark makes The Boy even more upset. Soon the shark is dead and we are out. The sun is shining and the ride comes to a close. The boy calms and then says....
" Don't even ASK me if we can go on that again."


Madame DeFarge said...

I think I'd feel the same at 43.

Carolina said...

Haha, Madame DeFarge stole my comment. Although, to be really honest, I'm 44. But I'd still feel the same. Poor boy. I'm off to look up 'procrastinating' ;-)

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