One brave little cowboy

Our mall does not have a decent shoe store. Until recently we did not have any stores at all for non-farmers between the ages of 18 and 50. We do have a full-size carousel (merry-go-round) in our food court though. 7+ years I spent imagining how that space could have been a Crate and Barrel, or a Nine West, or perhaps Ann Taylor. Today though I would not have traded that carousel for the world's largest Pottery Barn.

The three of us decided we really needed quality family time enjoying some air conditioning and so we headed to the mall. Actually, I think the Mav* wanted to watch his little one squeal at the puppies in the pet shop but he claims he just needed to get out of our hot, humid house. The puppies were a big hit (again) by the way. The store itself is quite controversial in town but it sure makes the little one happy.

When E began to make it clear he was nearly DONE SHOPPING! we took him on the carousel. He was fascinated by it - until it was our turn to ride. I set him on a horse and the operator strapped him to it, winding the belt around him a few times. He was ok with that. Curious but happy and relaxed. Then we moved.

He is an expressive child. The terror and confusion he felt were written all over his face and jerky movements. He did not cry though. He did not take his eyes or arm off me but he never uttered a sound. Gradually he loosened up until he was only just a bit tentative. I wouldn't say he had fun but the stoic little man is stronger for the experience. The Mav and I had a blast though. The ride lasted only about 2 minutes but I ran through more emotions than evoked by a normal 2 hour movie. There was anguish over having caused the boy such distress. Pride at his overcoming his fear. Delight in his too-adorable sad face (probably shouldn't enjoy that, but it's too cute). Unfortunately, we did not have a camera with us. This is "sad face" from a few months ago:
Now you can see why we can't help but love sad-face.

*The Mav: my husband, the boy's father, son to some, brother to one, in-law to many, nephew, uncle, friend, etc... and he has nearly as many names as roles/relationships. To avoid the Bill/Bibi/Reece debate I have decided to refer to him as the Mav. Yes, this is also the cat's name (Maverick) but the cat was actually named after the man. An influential person in our lives once referred to the man as a "real maverick" so I started to call him "Maverick" to amuse/annoy him. Then we got a cat. We passed the name on to the cat. I lost a fun way to tease the man but at the same time dealt with the traditions in both families of passing names to the oldest male. And thus Evan is Evan and not William III.