Chocolate for a Teen’s Spirit by Kay Allenbaugh

Chocolate for a Teen’s Spirit by Kay Allenbaugh

Author:Kay Allenbaugh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2008-07-15T00:00:00+00:00



I was suspicious from the very start. My teenage daught er and her friend were approaching me with sly smiles and covert looks. Something was certainly up … but what? I had spent the better part of the last hour smiling and waving endlessly at my two sweet young sons as they went around yet one more time on the motorcycles at our local county fair. Now I was looking at two older, decidedly more mischievous faces.

“Mom! You just gotta go on this totally awesome ride with us!” exclaimed my fourteen-year-old.

“Yeah!” her best friend eagerly agreed. “We dare you!”

My first instinct was to jump up and down and generally act like a fool because my teenager actually wanted to do something with me. Then the wiser, more experienced voice inside my head took over and reminded me that I was far too old … no, not old … never old … too mature for any of these crazy, wild rides. Those days had been left behind long ago with miniskirts and bellbottom jeans.

“Which one?” I asked hesitantly, fingers crossed that they somehow meant something tame like the merry-go-round.

“That one!” they exclaimed in unison while grinning at each other.

I looked with mute horror at the ghastly monstrosity they were pointing toward … Pharaoh’s Fury. It was huge and loud and I could feel the gray hairs popping out of my scalp just thinking about it. There was a line stretching across the county of kids—and only kids—waiting to go on it. Not a person over eighteen was in sight. Surely these girls were jesting. Surely they didn’t want this middle-aged mother of four to climb aboard that thing. It defied gravity. It moved faster than the speed of light. It broke the sound barrier.

Ambivalence grabbed hold of me, and I was torn between running away in total cowardice or giving in with dubious acceptance. The ever hopeful mother in me tried to convince myself that here might be a chance to truly bond with my daughter, to perhaps create a lifelong memory, to somehow show her that I was still a hip, cool, groovy mom. The idealistic side gradually won out over the realistic one, and I found myself reluctantly standing in line and paying a surprisingly ridiculous amount of money for this trip into total insanity.

I climbed into the seat, tightly sandwiched between the giggling girls, both looking like the proverbial cats that ate that gullible canary. I had little doubt as to just who the canary was.

The attendant, looking young enough that I knew he had to have been pulled out of elementary school for this job, came by and locked our safety bar. He started to move on but I reached out and grabbed his shoulder and demanded a nonnegotiable “Check it again!” I’m sure I saw him roll his eyes as both girls heaved deep sighs, no doubt feeling quite burdened by this fearful woman and her silly requests. He reached out and pulled on it once more and cast definite “I told you so” looks my way before moving on.


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