A short ride
Jun. 16th, 2013 11:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
violetcheetahTani's sister, upon reading the piece I wrote about him, unsurprisingly requested I write a story about her. This was what poppped into my head.
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We went to Roger Williams Zoo fairly often, Heather and Tani and Alissa and me, but this was our first time at Southwick's Zoo, three days before Lis's fifth birthday. It was a pretty average zoo trip: the kids going back and forth between excitement over something new, disappointment over much-anticipated animals not being as much fun as they'd hoped, a couple of mini-meltdowns from overstimulation, and of course begging. There are a lot of novel things to buy at zoos, presented in ways that are irresistible to children: food, stuffed animals, other toys, t-shirts.
Heather has pretty remarkable willpower, though, so generally with her kids the begging and bargaining goes on long enough to be kinda sit-com funny and strangely comforting, but not so drawn-out that it's like one of those SNL skits that never ends. And she did allow certain indulgences; it's a zoo, after all, and a day to spoil the kids a little. Lis had her first sno-cone, I remember, and was highly pleased when I had her look at her now-blue tongue in a mirror. And Heather told them early on that they each got one and only one "big" thing. So each time we passed, say, a kid-sized roller coaster, or a pony ride, and the kids begged, Heather said, "Well, you can decide at the end of the day whether that's your big thing, or that other thing is."
Lis's final decision was the pony ride. It was just a circle with about four ponies, sort of a live carousel, but without the flashy lights or jangly music or bright paint that would attract most children. The ponies just sedately walked around a circle, each one led by a worker holding a lead rope, although I don't think the workers were necessary; the ponies knew the deal, and seemed pretty content with their jobs. I was surprised she chose something that seemed so mundane, and I was dreading the meltdown of disappointment once it was over and she realized she'd blown her "big" thing while Tani had chosen the roller coaster.
Then the worker set her on the back of the pony. -Her- pony, at least for that five minutes. Her eyes were wide, her shoulders raised with the tension of a held breath. I remembered the first time I'd been on a horse's back, twice her age but still young enough to be both giddy and afraid of the power of the animal beneath me, power that was almost mine but not quite. I'd been astride, but it was the horse's choice to allow it, and I'd been humbled and proud at the same time that he'd allow me to borrow his power. I don't know that Lis felt any of that, but she was obviously not going to be disappointed.
What I remember most was her laugh. The entire time she was on that pony, she laughed in a way I'd never heard her laugh, never heard any kid laugh. It wasn't a high-pitched giggle, or brief loud shrieks. It was low, almost guttural, barely audible from where I stood 15 feet away, a series of five or six quick, soft tuts, dove-like, then an inhale and five or six more. It made me think of the bass line of a piece of music, a monotone you don't pay much attention to, but that is a necessary foundation to the whole piece. I couldn't hear the rest of the music, but I could see it on her face. There was a symphony of emotions within her, and clearly it was exactly the song she wanted to hear.
Once it was over, she of course asked if she could have another ride. Of course Heather said no, because those were the rules. I was surprised that Lis didn't protest, but she just sighed, still smiling with the melancholy contentment of someone much older than not-quite-five.
-----
We went to Roger Williams Zoo fairly often, Heather and Tani and Alissa and me, but this was our first time at Southwick's Zoo, three days before Lis's fifth birthday. It was a pretty average zoo trip: the kids going back and forth between excitement over something new, disappointment over much-anticipated animals not being as much fun as they'd hoped, a couple of mini-meltdowns from overstimulation, and of course begging. There are a lot of novel things to buy at zoos, presented in ways that are irresistible to children: food, stuffed animals, other toys, t-shirts.
Heather has pretty remarkable willpower, though, so generally with her kids the begging and bargaining goes on long enough to be kinda sit-com funny and strangely comforting, but not so drawn-out that it's like one of those SNL skits that never ends. And she did allow certain indulgences; it's a zoo, after all, and a day to spoil the kids a little. Lis had her first sno-cone, I remember, and was highly pleased when I had her look at her now-blue tongue in a mirror. And Heather told them early on that they each got one and only one "big" thing. So each time we passed, say, a kid-sized roller coaster, or a pony ride, and the kids begged, Heather said, "Well, you can decide at the end of the day whether that's your big thing, or that other thing is."
Lis's final decision was the pony ride. It was just a circle with about four ponies, sort of a live carousel, but without the flashy lights or jangly music or bright paint that would attract most children. The ponies just sedately walked around a circle, each one led by a worker holding a lead rope, although I don't think the workers were necessary; the ponies knew the deal, and seemed pretty content with their jobs. I was surprised she chose something that seemed so mundane, and I was dreading the meltdown of disappointment once it was over and she realized she'd blown her "big" thing while Tani had chosen the roller coaster.
Then the worker set her on the back of the pony. -Her- pony, at least for that five minutes. Her eyes were wide, her shoulders raised with the tension of a held breath. I remembered the first time I'd been on a horse's back, twice her age but still young enough to be both giddy and afraid of the power of the animal beneath me, power that was almost mine but not quite. I'd been astride, but it was the horse's choice to allow it, and I'd been humbled and proud at the same time that he'd allow me to borrow his power. I don't know that Lis felt any of that, but she was obviously not going to be disappointed.
What I remember most was her laugh. The entire time she was on that pony, she laughed in a way I'd never heard her laugh, never heard any kid laugh. It wasn't a high-pitched giggle, or brief loud shrieks. It was low, almost guttural, barely audible from where I stood 15 feet away, a series of five or six quick, soft tuts, dove-like, then an inhale and five or six more. It made me think of the bass line of a piece of music, a monotone you don't pay much attention to, but that is a necessary foundation to the whole piece. I couldn't hear the rest of the music, but I could see it on her face. There was a symphony of emotions within her, and clearly it was exactly the song she wanted to hear.
Once it was over, she of course asked if she could have another ride. Of course Heather said no, because those were the rules. I was surprised that Lis didn't protest, but she just sighed, still smiling with the melancholy contentment of someone much older than not-quite-five.
