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We went down to the activity centre for the first time so the kids could make some Halloween cookies. We all set out on our bikes but Ernie was tired before we got to the first turning. So I ran his bike back to the cabin and he rode in the trailer on the back of my bike, which we’d hired for this predictable outcome. And thank fuck Ernie had given up so early because it turned out the destination was much further away than it looked and at the bottom of a big hill down a long windy path. He might have got down but he would not have got up again. I was not looking forward to the cycle back up. Last year at the other Center Parcs I had been pretty fit and could ride both kids up the very steep path from the Plaza to the road to our cabin - this road wasn’t as steep but it was a lot longer. Could I do it?
The cupcakes got made and though I had considered us staying down at this end of the complex for our afternoon appointments in the same place, we decided we’d still go swimming as planned. And I got the boy and the bike up the hill with only a couple of pauses to catch my breath. And I made a foolproof plan to leave the bikes at the top on our return and take the kids up and down the pedestrian path. Because I am a genius.
I had a nice break reading and writing blogs whilst my kids learned to be wizards and my wife relaxed in the spa, then took the kids to the Adventure Playground. Once Catie turned up we headed back up the hill to pick up the bikes (whilst Catie went to get her bike as she had cycled down).
I’d already noticed that my daughter had left her coat behind and got her to collect it, because I am a super dad. When we were at the top of the long walk up the hill I asked Phoebe where her bike key was. She had, of course, left it at the activity centre. I was going to have to run down to see if the place was still open and then hopefully pick up the key and run back. But first I had to wait for Catie who was taking ages. I tried to ring her to see if she could make the whole thing easier by cycling back part way down the hill and checking for the key. She didn’t pick up. I rang again. No luck. We waited for ages. What was going on? I wondered if the cheap locks would open with any key so went to try mine in Phoebe’s lock. The danger was I would break my own key and render two locks unusable. But that would be too hack for fate today. The key did not work though.
Catie turned up. Of course if the worst came to the worst we would just have to leave the bike where it was until the morning, but Phoebe was crying at that prospect. She is loving the independence of cycling herself everywhere. So like a great dad (I am not one, but I am like one) I ran down the hill, all the time thinking that had I not been a smart arse I would have cycled down to the bottom of the hill and been 30 seconds from the Activity Centre when I realised that the key was missing. I had been punished twice.
Luckily there were still some staff tidying up in the centre (or should that be center?) and though they initially seemed to not know what I was talking about, eventually remembered they had found a key. I ran (and then walked) back up the hill and did the old Simon Cowell at the top, where I made it look like it was bad news, before revealing the key. Finally I had come good for my daughter. I said, “I don’t see myself as a hero. I was just doing my job.” But no one else was calling me a hero. Even though, like all people who say they don’t see themselves as a hero, I saw myself as a hero.
I felt good though. I had made my little girl happy. Even though she had initially blamed me for the loss of the key, even though I’d told her that she had to look after it when she said she wanted to keep it. And this was all her fault.
