Varmint and Critter are leaving the age of cuteness and innocence, and it’s killing me.
Every year since they were little amoebas, we’ve taken them to Funland at Rehoboth, a place of zippy kiddie rides, imaginative whimsy, and rip-off carnival games, while vacationing at Pop-pop’s cottage at the beach. This place was around when I was a kid…same rides and everything. Same boardwalk fries, same saltwater taffy, same frozen custard, same scary creepers sitting on the benches ogling passersby. It’s a family tradition, and one I could never imagine stopping.
This year the kids want to stop.
“Mom, the rides are boring!” Critter explains to me with the patience of a Special Ed Teacher. “You have to understand, they might have been fun when we were little, but now we need entertainment for bigger people.”
Understand Critter is all of 10 years of age.
“Well, Okay then,” I answered back with the sass of a 6th grader. “Let’s just go ahead and hit the bars in Dewey Beach.”
“Think you could get us in?”
Oh for the love of God.
Obviously I don’t transition well.
I’m not ready to hand in my little ones to exchange for some sassy bigger ones. I can easily imagine dragging them by the hand to Funland late into their 30’s. And by then they’ll be popping out little ones, so they’ll have to go anyways.
It’s not a bad plan.