the possible zip line ride. As we climbed the mountains and swam beneath the towering waterfalls, my mother was relentless.
“It will not even be that bad, it's not even that high.”
“Don’t try me about this Mom.”
As our time at the park melted away, relief had already set in. She had lost. I had won. That was until the car veered to the right and my father slammed on the breaks. My mother stared at me. I looked at her eyes, digging for any scrap of remorse I could find. There was none.
When our mostly crew stepped out of the car, I attacked my mother with renewed sense of spirit, “This is ridiculous,” I continued to clamor, “this is a dictatorship.”
“You got it,” she said, a smile creeping up the side off her face. The decision was out of my hands. Unfortunately, my brother didn't fare much better in his fight against the head of the house. Outfits were fitted and harnesses were tightened. In a few moments, I was creeping up a steep platform, my heart threatening to burst with excitement. The rainforest stood still, animals watched amused, the waters stopped flowing, all watching a challenger descend into the thick canopy.
“She is mocking me,” I thought to myself, peering back at more mother scoffing at my frightful attitude. I would not
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