This past Saturday we took my cousins up to the ropes course at the Sanford zoo. If you haven’t been there, it’s really impressive. You climb up into the trees, and then follow the rope trails through the treetops. There are zip lines and obstacles and all sorts of crazy climbing and balancing challenges.
My youngest, however, is still too little for the adult course. Instead, they have a course for little guys. It’s still fun, just much closer to the ground and much shorter. No adults are allowed on that one, so, while everyone else took to the trees, my job was to watch and cheer him on.
He went through the training section easily, telling jokes and goofing off. As we walked to the main course, though, he looked pretty sad.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you bummed you can’t do the bigger one?”
“No,” he said. “It’s not that.” He sighed. “I was just hoping to have an adventure.”
“It is an adventure,” I said. “Have you seen those ropes?”
“Yeah.” He sighed again, then looked at me. “But with you there, it’s not as much of an adventure.”
I stopped walking. “You don’t want me to watch?”
“No, no,” he said. “It’s not that. It’s just that it would be more of an adventure by myself.”
He’s only seven, and he’s already kicking me to the curb. Sheesh.