The Acrobats

Here at the Fun Time, I get lots of feedback from mothers who are looking for a Dad’s point of view on the subject of child rearing. As much as I’m glad to be noticed, I find it astonishing that my silly little posts are even being read, much less appreciated and studied for insight into the male psyche. You’re kidding me, right? Psycho, maybe, but no psyche.

So, this one goes out to all the Ladies, especially if you have a tweenage son. (And, I speak from experience as having once been one of those creatures. Ewwww. Sticky.)

We are in Las Vegas this week, staying at the Circus Circus hotel.

Part of the allure of Circus Circus is, well, the circus. And, any self-respecting circus is going to have clowns. And, jugglers. And, tight rope walkers. And, then there are the scantily-clad acrobats. Always a favorite.

We are ringside for the 11:00am show. Out walk Vladimir and Olga. (Yeah, I have no idea what their actual names are. Could be Skippy and Heather from Muncie, Indiana for all I know.)

The announcer tells us that they will be performing Feats of Strength, Flexibility, Balance… and Danger! They do not disappoint. Olga wraps herself into a pretzel while Vladimir balances her above his head on his pinkie finger. Damn.

It is awe-inspiring.

Then Olga stands up, bends over, grabs her calf, puts her ear next to her ankle and slowly raises her other leg straight up in the air. It is a 180+ degree vertical split. Most impressive. Vladimir lifts her on his forearm and raises her up, she grabs his forehead, and he gradually spins her around.

I applaud, but the 12-year-old boy inside me wants to let you know his thoughts:

No, he doesn’t care about her workout regime. No, he doesn’t care about her hamstring. No, he doesn’t care about her diet or caloric intake. No, he doesn’t care if she is feeling bloated. And, no, he doesn’t care about the heart-breaking sacrifices in her life she has made to entertain complete strangers.

Your 12-year-old son (in a hormone rage) is totally fixated on a couple of very specific areas of the female form that are displayed in front of him. For the first time ever. In an ultra-form-fitting leotard. In a vertical split. Ultra.

Joy Duo, the actual Circus Circus act. See what I’m sayin.’ (I don’t think this is from a porn shoot…)

So, while as a parent, you may ooo and awe at the tremendous skill and athleticism of the acrobatics in front of you, these are images that your son will have in his head every night for the next two weeks. And, he will reference them frequently.

These will be the images that form his permanent childhood memories.

I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s natural. I survived it.

And, so did my mother.

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