The Fretful Mother's Blog

Yes, yes, I know the Ferris wheel was invented by George Ferris for some kind of world expo thing in 1893 and was later moved to St. Louis. I have a fifth-grader so I am informed of all sorts of things in which I really have no interest. However, when faced with an actual Ferris wheel this past weekend, all the knowledge rushed to the forefront of my mind.

For my daughter’s 11th birthday I somehow agreed to take her and a few friends to the City Museum. The “museum” is really a house of horrors. Every “exhibit” promises possible death. It made my job as guardian of these miniature David Blaines excruciatingly stressful. Every time they entered a cave I was in total panic mode keeping my eye on the exit door ready to pounce on some kidnapper who could somehow manage to capture four tweenage girls and escape without notice. After awhile, they’d reappear in the ductwork above my head shouting “Look at me! I don’t think I’ve had a tetanus shot and I’m crawling all over rusty rebar!” 

When we first arrived at the death trap, the attendant asked if we wanted the rooftop upgrade. I turned to the girls, and they were all emphatically shaking their heads yes. So I paid the extra five bucks thinking I recalled something about a big slide up top. It couldn’t be all that bad. I decided to take a peek up there and was horrified to discover an ancient Ferris wheel perched on the edge of the 11th floor as if designed to roll off the roof killing all passengers and streetwalkers in its path. It is quite possible that it’s the original Ferris wheel made more than 100 years ago. I returned to the first floor and announced to the girls that there would be no Ferris wheel rides, so don’t even bother to ask. They looked at me like whatever and returned to their previous task of contracting infectious disease.

As the evening was winding down, the girls decided it was time to hit the roof. While trying to prevent hyperventilation, I decided to confine myself to the center of the roof and avoid looking at the Ferris wheel. However, I then lost sight of the girls while they climbed the rope to the second level and was forced to find a way up there myself. The girls rushed me as soon as I emerged from the stairwell yelling for me to hurry up because they needed parental permission to ride the spinning wheel of fatality. I said what part of you will never ride the Ferris wheel until your death did you not understand? But that was over an hour ago, my daughter explained. Now that we’ve seen some survivors the possibility is open once again.

Apparently I have not made myself clear enough to my children. Anything that seems fun will probably kill you. This should probably be the first thing I say to them every morning and the last thing I say to them every night. Come to think of it, I might want to invest in those subliminal message tapes to play to them in their sleep. You can never be too safe.

This entry was posted on July 12, 2011 at 8:20 pm and is filed under Fear of the Week. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.