Today marked a monumental event at the Jump Zone in Canton as Eva braved the journey all the way to the top of the Mr. Incredible mega super inflatable slide. The trouble was, once she climbed to the top, she decided there was no way she was coming back down.
“C’mon down, Eva!” I beckoned her from the bottom of the slide. “You’ll like it! Just try!”
“I don’t want to,” she replied. She hid her entire face behind her hands and sat, blocking the rest of the kids’ paths.
As the minutes ticked on, the kids behind her became impatient and began maneuvering their way around her. One by one, she watched them descend to the bottom, indifferent to their shrieks of euphoria.
“See how much fun they’re having?” I persisted.
“NO!” she cried. “The slide is not fun! It’s too tall!”
“Eva, you’re starting to get in everyone’s way. Come on down! There’s nothing to be scared of!”
But she just stared at me like a cat stuck in a tree. There was no point in prolonging it. I was the firefighter on call.
I dove headfirst through the entrance, then climbed the first set of steps. I charged between the inflatable pillars, through a tunnel, then stopped at what looked like an inflatable brick wall. The only way to get by was to squeeze through the two-inch space beneath it. I searched for another avenue. There was nothing.
A boy came up behind me. “Lost your kid, huh?” he asked.
“Are you going to stand there and ask me questions, or are you going to give me a boost?” I demanded.
He pushed me through, and I swear I felt my face slide across a pool of kid sweat. I rolled down a hill, squeezed myself through another tunnel, charged up another ladder, and scaled my way to the top of the slide. If I had a flag, I would’ve planted it there.
Eva was nowhere to be found.
“Have you seen a terrified three-year-old girl with really bad temper and dark curly hair?” I interrogated the first kid I could find.
He looked down and pointed. “Is that her down there?”
Sure enough, there was Eva, crouched at the bottom of slide, smiling up at me.
There really is no dignified way to go down a giant “Mr. Incredible” slide by yourself in front of a bevy of moms at a kids’ inflatable play center, so I’ll leave that part of the story out.
When I reached the bottom, I learned it was the birthday boy’s dad who actually coaxed Eva down. This guy must be the real Mr. Incredible, I decided. He must have both his sleeves stuffed with magic tricks. How did he do it?
“I just stood at the bottom, held out my arms and told her I’d catch her,” he shrugged.
And there you have it, all wrapped up in one maddening nutshell—the story of my life.