This morning I am obsessed by one thing.
I watch the clouds move across the sky. We went from sunny to cloudy to dark. Will it rain? Will there be a thunderstorm?
It matters because today my boy goes to the La Ronde amusement park with the whole school. He has been planning with the Park’s map, for weeks.
“Dad, do you think I should do the Goliath first or the Monster?”
“Whichever has the shortest line when you get there.”
“I don’t know dad, they’re both like the most popular so, I don’t know.”
“Wait and see.”
Waiting is a foreign concept.
“I think I’ll do the Goliath first because now that I’m 54 inches, I can.”
There are lots of things I’ve done for no other reason than I could. Not useful. Not necessary. Not even always pleasurable. But, hey I could, so I did. An odd form of oneupmanship.
Noah practically ran all the way to school. The usual 40 minute walk became a 17 minute sprint. My bloody sternum hurt by the time we jogged up the school steps. A kiss, a wave and he was engulfed by his buddies, all of them firing electrons of excitement like when you touch those big static balls in science museums. The noise level was so high that I could feel the little bones in my inner ear rattling in distress.
So now, I sit in the café wondering whether the whole wonderful escapade is going to be rained out. Worse. If there’s a thunderstorm, they actually shut down the Park.
Of course, there’s nothing I can do about it. Yet, I search the sky, like an ancient mariner hoping for signs that will guide me to survival.
The kids are supposed to be back at 8pm.
“Dad, dad, look we’ll be there like for at least eleven and a half hours. I mean I think I’ll be able to do like all the rides twice. Oh, yeah, baby,, uh-hunh, uh-hunh, oh yeah. And the Goliath, three times.”
Damn, it’s gone from dark to darker and the wind is picking up. Bad sign.
Montréal is a northern city but, lately, the summer weather has gone tropical, with rapid flash thunderstorms every day or so.
Global warming is a reality. As long as it was screwing with polar bears it was a distant threat. Now, it’s upsetting my kid’s amusement.
Reminds me that my federal government is led by the intrepid prime minister Stephen Harper who rose from the oil sands in the west, like some marsh monster in a B-film.
Climate change? “Puah!” he says. Let’s make money now and the rest will, well, sort itself out. Leave it to our kids to figure out.
Mr. Harper… my kid’s Goliath ride at La Ronde is in jeopardy. And now it’s too late to do something about it.
if I have to console my rained out kid, I will sign every petition pressuring you to reacquire a brain. Remember, that inconvenient thing called science? Yeah, I’ll remind you.
Still no rain. Still no thunder. Maybe the wind will blow away the bad weather.
You better hope, Mr. Harper. That’s all we have left now, thanks to your cynicism.