AMNH: Back in time, buts and budgeting...

Ok, speaking of jonesing for dolphin skulls (just what I longed for at four ;), I still haven't posted pics from before we went to Kansas! (Remember this poem:)

So, skipping back over a month ago, we went to the American Museum of Natural History (again:). It was a fun day with P's little unschooler friend, Logan, and his mum. Its Fabulous hanging out with other unschoolers (especially these two!). Really. The level of respect is relaxing. The small people receive just as much respect as the big people (they're not less of a person just because they have less mass, right?) so there's no feeling of "come'on! Get your kid to go with the flow, I'm tired of waiting," foot tap, finger roll, small sigh. Each bathroom break, snack grab, shoe tie, water break, attention break, angry shriek, happy shriek, bathroom break, well, you get the idea, is as honored as breathing and its all chill and happy. Ahhhhh :)



I've posted about the AMNH a million times, so I'll spare the gory details, excepting the gift shop gab. Thorn in my side, bane of my expedition existence, these pop up on every freakin' floor. We saw a new installation (absolutely Fabulous, by the way) called Extreme Mammals (featuring P's new fave, the platypus and that infamous dolphin skull) that dumped us right into another gift shop. Oy.

Which inevitably brings back up the budget issue. Living in Nyc ain't cheap. And, supposedly requires savings. Which requires not buying every saber tooth tiger skull that we see. But. But :) But....

I think this is one of the most challenging areas for me, philosophically, as a parent. P is just as much a part of this family as E or I, and is thusly budgeted. But, here's the first big, hairy "but", E and I are old enough to actually, patiently, understand a budget :) The little man, not so much... He's progressing on that path though. As we discussed a particular "want" in Kansas, and how we'd make it happen ("now" always being his preferred timeline, of course!) I gently reminded him that we were saving so that Papa could quit his job or we could move someday, something, anything, that would make for more family time - and that I'd like to factor that into our planning. He nodded solemnly (being totally on the bandwagon for that plan himself) and patted my hand. "Mama, you know the money I'm saving that I find on the ground? You can have all of it to help Papa quit his job." Awwww. So, slowly but surely, that particular "but" is stepping aside, leaving room for the other "buts" banging around my brain...

While we do have a tight budget, we aren't crazy strapped, so P could get junk semi-regularly. But :), he doesn't want to buy junk, having absorbed environmental thoughts (I swear we aren't mind-messing here, merely modeling!) from both his parents and the lovely Dr. Suess (ahhh, the Lorax, so sad, so fab, so inpirational) and the fairly scary Wall-E movie. . Junky toys break and can't be reused by the next generation. P doesn't like this. He tries to reclaim anything he finds left over after stoop sales in order to save it from the dump :) So this dumps the idea of buying junk to fit into the budget...

Thus, back to the buts. We could buy decent (non-junk) toys semi-regularly, "but".... we're running out of room. Nyc living is also compact living. Three of us sleep in what most midwesterners would consider a walk in closet. We love it, no complaining here, and we've found lots of ways to add toy storage to our space, but there are only so many walls for shelves. I love, love, loved in Sex and the City when the main character mentions lipstick purchases as a serious commitment to a New Yorker, since we have to seriously consider where each little addition will dwell in our tiny domains.

Fortunately for P, I love to reorganize space, and figuring new toy storage is like a Tetris-addict's high for me, so that particular "but" only holds for the biggest of budget benders (the almost life sized stuffed baby elephant at the Central Park Zoo gift shop pops to mind here...) And I've already done away with the "but won't we spoil him" "but" long ago (he's not an egg!!!), but the anti-consumerist "but" is probably the hairiest but for this particular tree-hugger. My shield against this fun deflating arrow of angst has thus far been attempting to remember that these are my issues, not my child's. But, if everyone keeps consuming at the contemporary rate, over-consumption of the world's resources will snowball into my child's issue. And probably in my lifetime, so I'll have the added bonus of watching my child wade through a world of with-outs. I have yet to shake this "but."

Then, the last "but" butts its way in. But, we've got so many toys already!!! I know, deep down, this is a silly "but", as silly as the phrase "too many black shoes" is laughable. But, its not black shoes I'm asked to buy daily. Don't get me wrong, I love toys, truly. "But", as I'm the one picking up the countless toys at the end of every day (an act of love I'm typically happy to do, getting his house ready for another day of fun) it typically crosses my mind that we have tons of toys when there are so many kids... that do not. I know, I know, a slippery slope of sloppy thought on which my guilt figure skates, but a but that I've yet to de-hair despite charity and serious thinking.

So, back to the gift shop. As the little man stands there, asking for the skull (um, we'll save for it!) and then whittles his way down to smaller and smaller items, getting that gift store gleam in his eye, all of these "buts", I kid you not, run through my head, chasing each other in circles like little Sambo around a tree. P and I have discussed this, when far away from the gift stores, and agreed upon a plan. Or, at lease, seemingly agreed. We've picked out meaningful holidays throughout the year, providing practically monthly presents for the little man. He has expressed a preference for being surprised (rather than present at the purchase) by brightly bound boxes and we've tried to follow that guideline. We have a "wish list for the Universe" that we work from, watching how the Universe provides for us, how we effect our own existence.

But, the best laid plans go awry, or life wouldn't be very interesting. And budgeting and buts at four is less than life expanding. So its back to the drawing board for me, trying to see the" yes", the "of course" and the "buts" in one beautiful package, preferably with a reused bow :)

P's photo collection: memories of his summer

P adored the abounding nature on my folk's farm. Bugs, frogs and lichen rounded out his faves, with cicada shells being the most frequently collected beauty. My dear mother provided P with a (large) dedicated space for his nature collection which he proceeded to fill with rocks, crystals and pine cones from Colorado, fossils, cicada shells and rocks from Kansas and (drum roll, please) a wolf skull, shark's tooth, and two snake skins.

Wha? Yah. Indeed. The child and I went to the AMNH right before we headed west and he became immensely enamored with a dolphin skull and a saber tooth tiger skull. Immensely enamored. Upon arriving in Kansas, P announced to Grams that in lieu of a toy this trip, he would greatly like one of these skulls :) What's 800 big ones between friends?

Magical Grams astounded me when she marched the little man into another room, only to return with a beaming chid bearing a scary looking skull and simultaneously screaming "Fangs! Mama, BB! Fangs!!! Look at those canines!"

The two snake skins were also found by the lovely Gramsie-grams. I spied the shark's tooth on our last day there, lodged in the limestone wall. Grandpapa, bless him, slowly excavated it, under the pounding sun, with the little man's help.

A picture of his window ledge filled with wild wonders would be more than appropriate here, but I have a sleeping child snuggled up against me and my camera is in the other room awaiting download... :) So, working with what's already on my computer tonight, here's the nature pics the little man requested I capture so that he could "have them for forever." (Apparently, when we can't actually collect something (say a dead frog, or an olive that will rot), visual collection fills his need to obtain...) Now, I'd personally edit some of these shots out, but seeing how its the little man's blog and he's requested them all be taken and posted, well, I do as a good little mama is told ;)

The final hike...

Finally getting to the last of the trip .... :)

By Saturday, P was done. Finished. He was more than happy to be in Colorado, thrilled to be with family, but wanted nothing to do with following the herd up a trail. As the family was planning a group hike, we hoped to have one last hurrah with everyone :) But the little man had a specific vision of the day. So we promised him that this hike would be All About Phoenix. No forward momentum necessary. Just rock tossing, pine cone picking, Froggy tickling fun. So he agreed :)

And it was nice. Really nice. No high altitude goal, no prodding to proceed. Group trips are great and all, but they also add certain stresses that the little man didn't necessarily sign up for. (At four, it really is All about Him :) So we spent ages eating snacks by a waterfall while he found Joy teasing Froggy:





The biting bit is a Froggy standard. You may notice E's furrowed brow above. He's doing Froggy's voice and, typically, arguing with Phoenix about something. P luuuuvs to tell Froggy (or BB, or Sock Monkey) the way things work, only to be contradicted by his fuzzy friends. Then he argues with them, often heatedly. When E misses the mark on how much to press the argument (it changes daily based on P's moods:) Froggy gets a nice bite. Fortunately, E's learned to keep his fingers pretty far back inside the puppet's head ;)

And then rock climbing:



And then cave exploring when the rains set in:



When the rains lifted, we clambered up a wet slope (where E and P, separately, BIT it - ouch!) and watched the fog roll in (do you even call it fog in the mountains?) It was Bea-u-tiful. P was standing there, staring at it and it was just so pretty that I wanted a shot. But I wanted one with his lovely face. So I asked him to turn around for a photo - something I almost never do (just because I have a photo addiction doesn't mean he needs to be put on the spot all of the time!). Well, this photo reminded me of why I'd rather have his natural backside than his purposeful mug :)




After playing in the cave for a while (we found some charcoal from a fire and drew "cave paintings" of BB on the walls:) the family returned from their hike further uphill. P happily grabbed Alicia's sweet mum and drug her into the bushes to see his special mushroom (pictured in the previous post). Spending time with his Aunt's family, it was easy to see how she's the amazing Aunt that she is :)



His cup full o' love and patience, P was primed to participate on the way downhill. He was tossed about by various Uncles, sang silly songs, played hat games, rode on Grandpapa's shoulders. I plugged into my music and quietly said goodbye to the woods we love. The next morning, we headed out for Kansas, P bringing half a mountain of pine cones and rocks with him - to escape any goodbye's on his part :)

A few of his favorite things...

P specifically asked for the following to be photographed. He deemed each thing "special" on his trip :)

Rocks and Fossils, oh my!

P's big fascination of late is rocks and fossils. We visited the American Museum of Natural History right before we left home and the little man eschewed the gift shop toys for fossils. So it was only natural that we would schedule a stop at the Red Rose Rock Shop while we were out west. P was overwhelmed with happiness, and options. He very carefully stuck to his budget... and planned ahead for his next visit :)

Returning to our cabin, we had to open his geode. The fabulous Uncle Seth and amazing Aunt Alicia had surprised him just a few days before with some special rocks - and he'd had such a great time chipping at their geode that he was super psyched to do it again. This one, however, was crazy solid. P hammered away at the thing. Uncle Blaine gave it a whirl. Uncle Seth tried his hand. They tossed it on the concrete sidewalk. (It was a small geode, by the way :) They heaved a huge rock at it, but to no avail. Finally, Uncle Seth slammed a boulder down onto the miniscule geode and it popped open. It was great fun :)

P also scored the following fabulousness: A trilobite fossil (his favorite), a cephalopod fossil, a squid fossil (also his favorite), and a smattering of small crystals. Since our return to Kansas, the kid has been fossil hunting on grams' limestone rock wall a number of times, scouting out quite a few fossils and a frog skeleton. And from all of this has evolved a dream for the future, when pressed for such things: a rock and crystal shop. To be run by P and his Mama and Papa. We'd scour the world for rocks and fossils, keep most of them and sell a few. He's happy to finally have an answer to the "what will you do when you grow up" question that has always irked him, as his answer of "just be Phoenix" usually garners chuckles. A seemingly strange response, according to the little man ;)

Party Central

Despite the fact that we've been back from Colorado for, um... two weeks? I'm still blogging about our trip! I'm a bit behind, as the little man has become a late night reveler this month....

Going to bed started becoming a real issue last month. Before that, we'd have the occasional blip, but generally we'd just head to bed when P was tired (he's a naturally rhythmic kid, so it was a predictable time) and read, cuddle, sleep. He's never welcomed sleep, but the nursing that eventually evolved to just cuddling always sealed the deal. (This, of course, is a mute point when family or company is around. Then he's never tired :)

But no more! He would become agitated when the light went off. Or he'd be angry about brushing his teeth. About a book being over. I couldn't figure it out. It wasn't just because he was over-tired. He was procrastinating. Big time. Not arguing about going to bed, but doing all he could to do things on his time line. It finally dawned on me that he wasn't in the driver's seat, we were still doing his toddler routine, (it had worked well for a few years!) and he just wasn't a toddler anymore. He was ready to decide himself when he'd crawl into bed, but I don't think he realized that was even an option :) Another parenting head smack for me....

So we've tried a new routine since Colorado. I tell him when I'm tired and help him get ready for bed. Then I go to bed (and read) and he plays in the bedroom for as long as he likes. He loves it. There are no more issues about getting ready for bed (other than he'd rather the whole house stay up later and occasionally tries to keep Grams up with a story or a quick question :) But after a few reminders that the adults are exhausted, he happily brushes his teeth and cleans up for bed. He's also playing independently, every night. Something I hadn't been able to finagle for four years. He really understands that I'm tired so he doesn't begrudge my non-participation, unlike any other time of day. And he's just so tickled that he's in charge of his whole day now, that he's happily playing in the corner by himself. Sure, sure, there's typically a question or comment directed towards me every couple of minutes, but there are also periods where he's completely involved in his own little world, chattering to himself. And happily! And he spends a good deal of time every night pouring over books, sitting on the carpet, muttering as he slowly turns pages. I think he gets more reading done than I do, since I so enjoy watching him play :)

He plays for a bit, comes up to cuddle and read, goes to play for a bit, back for a cuddle, goes to play, comes back for one final cuddle and then, purposefully flops around and goes to sleep. I love that he's listening to his body, figuring out when he no longer feels comfortable vertical. I don't know what exhaustion feels like for him, I can't honestly tell him when his head is fuzzy, nows the time to sleep. He has to figure out his body's cues and learn to trust them. So we're trying to give him that safe space. And he's starting to sleep in and make up for his missed hours now that his nocturnal activities keep the light shining bright until 11 or so every night... But it sure is fun having that light on when he goest to sleep these days - I've so missed seeing his sweet eyes grow heavy and finally, relax (since he needed it to be Dark to go to sleep for a while there.) Oh yeah, its a party here!

Still Stormy

Thought the little man was less than chipper the following day, we had a longtime friend meeting us for hiking and therefore headed out once again. Linking last year's trip, I noticed I admitted to a higher level of frustration by Friday. That trend held true this trip too, with the food allergy issue not helping :) The above pic pretty much nails P's mindset for Friday...

Fortunately, our dear friend is amazing and understanding. And she had a great recommendation for a new hike that's beauty defeated our tightened smiles. If only I remembered the trail name...

At any rate, there were waterfalls and rocks and rain. A subtle, softer storm than the day before, both above and below :)

Food Allergies and the Fern Lake Trail

P, storm brewing:



Grandpapa is super strong:


P and I play billy goats:


Uncle Ian really pays billy goat:


Poor little P was born with food allergies. Why? I dunno. Some have suggested it was my fault (nice :) Some say luck of the draw. Some say its inherited (E does have a number of food allergies). Some say its environmental toxins overloading our wee ones.... Some say its bullshit :) I'll never know. But I do know that some foods really mess with my kid.

The super slow process of figuring out exactly what messes with P is a bone of contention between me and myself. Had I only known when he was first born, oh how much lovelier his introduction to this world would have been! The "colic!" But everything for a reason and all that jazz ;) Fortunately, he's not anaphylactic or anything, we're actually really lucky. And his list has slowly shrunk in size. The bottom line is that nuts (yup, all of them - but not seeds!), food coloring and most artificial flavors/preservatives/nasty chemical cocktails added to packaged foods are out for us. He seems over his dairy, egg, chocolate (in moderate amounts) and soy (well, he can have edamame and tofu in small quantities, but soy derivatives still mess with him) sensitivities.

How do we know what he's allergic to? We've had ample opportunity to observe the trends, since we are unschooling food and the little man generally chooses what he puts in his body. This means he's bucked our advice numerous times and eaten his allergens over and over again. And his sweet little form has a brilliant stop sign - a bright red tush. This, combined with eczema after forbidden fruits, always lets us know his body isn't happy. Were these the only issues though, it would be a lot easier to lean towards a popular approach to food sensitivities: benadryl and skin creams :) But P's emotional roller coaster after he's eaten something his body dislikes can't be as easily soothed by a chamomile bath. He obsesses, rages, hits and is just a general mess to be around :)

So we keep our kitchen free of any allergens (no high fructose corn syrup, no nuts, no crazy preservatives, fortunately the co-op has affordable organic!) and know restaurants that work for us. But every once in a while, the kid sees something he wants to try. Now that he's older, when we mention said food has an allergen, he typically happily skips off looking for a replacement. But sometimes (generally when he's in a group and excited to participate - ahhh peer pressure!) he just wants to try it...

Barring the times we are staying in another's space (umm, his mood swings and other's breakables don't go well together) his food choices are just that: his. And so we watch him be uncomfortable in his skin and try to support him while he rages about crazy things for three days. And then we mention that maybe his body doesn't like that food so much. And in the last few months, he's realized this. Really realized it.

So I've seen him turn down offers of nuts (which he loves the taste of). And candy (which he loves the idea of:). All of his own doing, without a glance towards me or a second thought. He really doesn't like feeling gross. And he's finally getting old enough to connect the two dots all on his own.

But many of his sensitivities are big long words hidden at the end of an ingredient list he cannot yet read. And as he enjoyed his independence in Colorado, sliding from one cabin to another, teasing one family member after another to achieve full tickle status, he munched on something somewhere that didn't agree with him. His eczema was worse than I'd seen in many months. His tush was so red he winced. And his insides, apparently, felt about the same....

Which is a really long introduction to our next, and loveliest, hike. His inner storm was brewing from the get-go, but despite the personal stop sign down yonder, he seemed to be keeping himself in decent check. And he wanted to hike. So off we went with his Grandparents, Uncle Ian and Aunt Alicia.

The trail is beautiful, if not mosquito laden, wandering initially along the river through boulder fields. P was in heaven with all of the climbing and rock collecting. At one point, a little cave opened up into a wall seemingly built for bouldering. And so that's exactly what we watched the great Uncle Ian do:



P, captivated by Ian's ascent:



Around the corner, grew up a wall of great boulders that had provided us with an afternoon of fun last year. Our previous foray up this slope had us lamenting Uncle Ian's absence, so we embraced our chance to play with him this time:



He was a huge help as the little man catapulted from one rock to another, his steady arms always ready to catch a falling child. The view was gorgeous and the rocks just difficult enough to manage that the little man felt like a True Explorer. As clouds moved in, E reached us on the walkie talkie to remind us of the slickness of rain kissed rock, so we sighed and started back down. P didn't want to go, but was eventually willing. Then he was just too tired, too hungry, to move. It was like his inner environment was mimicking the sky overhead...

We eventually reached the trail and refueled, ready to move onward. The sky cleared and the little man's spirits were buoyed by sustenance. He merrily marched atop Ian's strong back, singing stinky songs about Aunt and Uncle, quite pleased with himself. We stopped at the stream to gather a few rocks and take in the view, and the little man's clouds passed over once more....



Ian sweetly fished fave rocks out of the freezing water, the heaviest of which we cleverly stashed behind a tree to retrieve on the return hike. P wasn't exactly thrilled by this approach, but he's familiar with it. (We often hide rocks or sticks in bushes while out in the park, planning to grab the prize on our return home, since the little man typically brings a bag of toys, another bag of snacks and a scooter on our city adventures, thereby filling my octopus arm quotient while out playing :)

On we hiked, P's obsession with rocks growing exponentially. Still he gathered. His pockets were full. Our bag was full. Ian's pockets were loaded. And yet he dug in the dirt, adding rocks till his waistband hit his knees :



When I could see he'd gone over the edge, there was no return from his present cloud cover to clear skies, I suggested a return to the car. Nope, no doing. (Which was fine, it was a lovely hike and one we hoped to see more of this year than last.) So I suggested a moratorium on rock picking, or to at least do trades for those unusually special rocks that couldn't be left behind. He resolutely stuck rocks in his pants, his ears hearing nothing but inner thunder. Then he tried to con his Aunt into carrying more of his beloveds. Ever the love, she found this, something that was straining my every last nerve of patience, preciously hilarious. I silently blessed her then, for putting it back into perspective for me:



So, we attempted to load up on more rocks, sweet Alicia now weighed down too :) I tossed the little man into the mei tai to avoid further confrontation and on we hiked. Alicia and P's grandparents headed back to the cabin (wise, wise choice ;) and Uncle Ian, E and I pressed on...

Quite honestly, the hike only got prettier from there, visually. After a waterfall, a nice local pointed us towards the best route when schlepping a child and it was unbelievably beautiful. Much more verdant than most of the hikes:



She also informed us that by following this trail, we wouldn't have to backtrack our steps; it would dump us right into the distant parking area where we had left our car. A new hike and no extra hike to the car? Perfect!

So the little man chilled for a while, centering himself a bit in the mei tai. Then he popped out for some more rock clambering fun:



And then he was done. Ready to go to the car. When I informed him we were heading to the car, the realization that his precious rock would stay hidden behind that tree hit him and it was Not Pretty. D'oh.

He demanded we turn around and go back the way we came. To emphasize his point, he stomped off in the backtrack direction, arms pumping, jaw jutting, breath humphing. The sky, echoing his insides, was brewing something heavy duty and the car was definitively not parked in his preferred direction. Meanwhile, E and Ian looked on, ready to move on. But the little man could not let it go. He spat, hit, screamed and then melted. Then he repeated it all. Thanks to Alicia's laughter, I'd found my center again and was able to accept his upset for what it was for him, rather than the silliness it was to me. And not only did he miss his rock, the one he claimed no other could ever replace, he felt betrayed. We'd promised to grab his rock on the way down. Now we weren't. The kid had a fair point. We promised to re-hike the following day, but he was storming so loudly that options wouldn't be heard. His wee body wasn't under his control and it broke my heart to see him so outside of himself and hurting.

It was ugly. And long. And gawd bless Ian for chilling at the top of the mountain for the entire melt-down. When the little man was finally spent, he most reluctantly climbed into the mei tai to moan out a few more sobs as we descended. Then, as we passed a lily laden lake and rounded a few seep sodden bends, the sky finally relaxed too and dropped everything it had onto us. Hail and then a pounding rain. Armed with ponchos it was actually a lovely adventure, as the trails turned to tiny rivers and the mosquitos finally departed. Steam rose off of the mountains as we jumped from rock to rock. The little man, awakened from his short nap by the storm, was quietly chillin' in the mei tai, his vision obscured by the giant orange poncho tapping beneath the raindrops. I tried to imagine what the experience was like for him right then, safely wrapped up, wee legs dangling in the cold and wet, warm body rising and falling unpredictably due to his carrier's constant jumps, everything just orange lights and shadows. (Heart enervated by what he saw as our first departure from our word....)



Though E struggled to not pick P up and carry him down the mountain against his will when we were awaiting the end of his wailings (we're attempting to avoid all implications of the "might makes right" rule), he didn't hesitate to make sure we stayed good to our word. And so the Super Papa re-hiked the Fern Lake Trail two days later and fetched P his prized rock. Faith restored. Food allergy lesson revisited.

Interestingly enough, the little man has been Very Cautious about asking me to read labels ever since this incident. And that's what I love about unscooling/life learning. He's wanting to be careful about what he eats so that he feels good. Not because his mama told him so :) (Note: This success has not yet yielded enlightenment in my brain. I still have to repeat my mantra daily: we do not want subservient and compliant. we do not want subservient and complaint... Why doesn't he just listen to me?!?! Wait, I meant, we do not want subservient or compliant....)

Summer

This sloppy shot just seemed like summer to me :) Barefoot, messy, 'nary a care in the world, climbin'. The child, even when off the mountain, away from the big boulders, was still climbing :)

ATV

Last year, P was too little to go on the family adventure (white water rafting) but he met the size requirements for four wheeling this year! So we drove further into the mountains to meet our dozen or so all terrain vehicles on which we could hurl ourselves down peak side passes :)

P and Uncle Ian watching everyone gear up:



The only glitch in the little man's seamless plan was the hulking helmet. Not a fan of dress-up or looking "not Phoenix-ish" (his phrase!) he had No Interest in donning the sizable safety gear. Fortunately for him, there was no state helmet law, merely an eyeware law. Familiar with four wheelers and knowing I'd be going crazy slow with a four year old perched between my thighs, we decided we were comfortable with his preference, so away we went!

P and I prepped for our ride:



E and P enjoying a midmorning snack (E radioing his fam so they wouldn't think they'd lost us!):



Everyone zipped around having a ball while P and I piddled about at the back of the line. It was really lovely, perfect weather, gorgeously blue skies (we see nothing of that sort in New York and I found it visually shocking on a daily basis). The trails were very rocky in some areas and without any helmets I wasn't willing to take many chances, so we fell behind the speedster Uncles quickly. Eventually the little man, hoping to catch up, agreed to try his headware, hoping beyond hope that no one would notice or say anything (he even snuck it on while E "wasn't looking!") Unfortunately, his wee stature combined with the enormous jolts proved too big of a challenge for his ill fitting helmet. It bounced down over his eyes, flipped up over his chin, basically proving ineffective and uncomfortable :)

P, trying on his helmet, briefly :)



So he took it back off, we slowed back down and all was well again. Then, after about two and a half hours, he was done. It was literally like a light switch. One minute he was saying it was so fun and two minutes later he shouted out, "Ok! This isn't fun anymore! I'm doooooone! Let's loose this puppy and walk down the mountain." Fair enough - he was way too short to stand up and avoid any of the huge bumps, and his hands had itty-bitty blisters from holding so tightly onto straps and belts so as not to fly off of the bouncing, bumping machine...

Down we headed, to read Abel's Island in the car. P's summation of the adventure: "It was fun, and then it wasn't. I liked it, except for the bumps."