We live downtown.  Right in the heart of the city.  Sometimes when we’re driving home from the mountains and we exit on to I-25 from I-70, Brooks screams out from the back seat,

“My city!”

Dave and I always turn to each other and smile.  You see, we LOVE Denver.  This city.  It is a part of our souls. So much so, that we recently traded our 4 bedroom home in the suburbs for a place in the heart of downtown.  It’s all 5 of us in a 2 bedroom apartment that overlooks everything. My boys sit in the windows and stare at “their city”.

Since moving here, there’s one thing that has always caught their eye off in the distance: a ferris wheel. It lights up all day and into the night, constantly turning, constantly drawing them in. I swear they’ll sit and rattle off the colors of the changing lights at least 10 times per day.

So finally, we left Roman with Grandma Lisa and took the boys to Elitches (the home of said ferris wheel).  I had no idea how this day would go. Brooks isn’t one for this kind of thing.

Brooks is my sensitive one.

He is not adventurous.  He is reserved. He watches, waits, thinks.  He is never the first to try something new.  Not exactly amusement park material.

And Lucas… who knows how he would handle things.  His therapist warned us to just go with no expectations. To let him watch. To let him decide.

So we adopted this mindset for both the boys, something we call, “woosah” in our family — yeah, you might recognize that, it’s from Bad Boys II . I know, random. 

So we bought our tickets. Lied about Brooks’ age to get him in for free (three and under was the cutoff. We stopped, took a knee with Brooks, and explained to him that today he was three years old. He agreed to this scam, and we agreed to continue being fantastic parents like that.). And paused for a brief moment before walking up to the ferris wheel and reminded each other to “woosah” — any progress is good progress!

We got in line. Brooks watched the wheel spin in silence.  Lucas sat on Dave’s shoulders.  And we all stared at the ferris wheel.  Turning.  And stopping to let people on and off.  And Brooks panicked (not as intimidating off in the distance from the safety of our apartment). So we walked on to KiddieLand.  And stopped at the boat and watched.  And Brooks panicked.  And moved on to the motorcycle ride. And Brooks panicked. And we walked up to the airplane ride. But this time, something happened,

“This one. Dad. I want to ride this one.”

Brooks screamed.

“Ok. Bud.”

Dave whispered as he carried Brooks to a little airplane and sat him down. Lucas gripped on to my shirt with his tiny fingers. I could feel his little heart beating through his chest from simply watching his brother partake in this madness. We all watched as the ride started to spin and lift.  Brooks started to fly.  Like really fly.

And just as Brooks’ face turned from concern and focus to an ear to ear smile, Lucas started screaming,

“My turn. My turn. My turn.”

Dave and I looked at each other in silence — do we do this? We thought.  

“Ok. Bud.”

Dave whispered again and Lucas flew next.  All by himself. Half smiling and half in a meditational state from the continuous circular motion (Y’all have no idea what an accomplishment this is for Lucas. I am counting down the days until Tuesday when I can tell his therapist.) 

The boys rode a bunch of rides that day.  And ran from one straight to the next.  I love watching my boys live life. 

We ended the day up on top of the lookout tower looking at “OUR CITY” and carried our exhausted crying melting down boys back to our little corner of Denver.

Ciao! Girl