Last week in Charolottesville, Daughter Kath and I took Mazen to the waterpark.
That baby splashed like he was training to be Michael Phelps.
We played “Motorboat, Motorboat” while Kath took a whirl down the slide.
“It’s a really fast, cool slide,” she said upon return. “You need to try it.”
First thought: I’ll feel silly walking up the tall slide steps at my age.
Second thought: I’ll twist my back or do some other you’re too old damage.
My daughter, as kids learn to do from about age two, noted my hesitation.
“You used to love water slides. Go!”
I looked at Kath.
I looked at Maze.
I looked at the slide.
In my forties, I rocked fast slides, impressing my kids and my husband, who don’t impress easily.
I took in the moment.
I could say, “Nope. Been there done that. Too old.”
After all, age has her privileges.
Or I could grab the gusto.
“Any techniques?” I asked the lifeguard when I reached the top.
“Just stay flat,” he warned.
Going down a water slide, comes back to you, mostly because you don’t have any choice.
The slide is the boss.
Kath was right.
What a great slide.
I hit the water with such force, I thought I would either drown or decide for sure I was too old.
But then I surfaced, feeling oh so proud of my decision.
Maze and I are training to take on the waterparks of the world.
What about you?
Any decisions to go with the gusto of your youth lately?