“I think I saw one of those spinning hang bars across from where we turned. Want to give that a go?”
I nod my agreement. Izzy’s going to make it easy for me with this one too. She practically weighs nothing still.
Flynn readjusts his sunglasses after Ryder tries to grab them off his face, and then we’re off again, headed in the direction of the hanging challenge.
I glance back briefly when we make it down from the booth a little, and I spot the Reebok dad following closely.
I nudge Flynn with a soft elbow. “Got a bogey on our six, dude. Looks like Reebok wants to dance again.”
“Well, then, Goose. I guess it’s time to hit the brakes, see if he’ll fly on by.”
There’s nothing I love more than a Top Gun reference. Plus, there’s probably nothing dad-lier that Flynn or I could have done in that moment. Still, I don’t think this is a bait and switch situation. I think, if we’re going to really win this epic battle, we’re going to have to meet the challenge head on.
I shake my head. “Nope. I think we have to see this through to the end. Let’s just win.”
Flynn smirks. “Roger that.”
We stop at the booth, set up with the hanging bar and a two-minute clock display. It looks simple enough, but I know there’s not a chance in hell so many people have trouble for no reason.
The trick here isn’t to get cocky.
“This one’s all you,” Flynn defers, lifting each of the boys about six inches higher to make his reasoning evident. With two arms full and muscles that must be burning to hell and back after carrying them all day, he’s not our best chance anyway, so I don’t fight it.
It’s up to Izzy and me, and we can handle it, I’m sure.
Brazenly, Reebok dad stops at the booth behind us, without even bothering to feign interest in something else.
This, I’d say, is a declaration of war.
I turn to Flynn and hold out the bag of fish, to which he laughs directly in my face. “You’re joking, right?” he questions, lifting up both twins a little higher.
“Why the hell didn’t you bring a stroller?”
“Because I didn’t need one.”
Great. I sigh, and then gently set the fish bags on the ground.
Stepping up to the booth and paying my fee, I tighten Izzy’s carrier straps and check to make sure her head is good and secure. Her eyes flutter, and I know immediately that she’s giving me a wink.
She’s confident in me, and I’m confident in her. Together, we can handle anything.
Assured she’s comfortable and ready for action, I climb onto the foot pegs on the bottom sides of the bar structure and reach up to take it into my hands as gently as possible.
It’s simple at first, hanging calmly as the clock starts to click. Flynn shifts Roman in his left arm and then boosts Ryder farther onto his hip on the right.
The boys giggle and squeal and try like hell to make Flynn release them so they can crawl on the ground, but he’s stalwart, a true warrior, and keeps them locked up tight so he can remain my support.
I don’t know what it is, but my arms start to feel some kind of sympathy pains or something because when the clock rounds its way into the second minute, I begin to feel the burn. My palms are also starting to get sweaty against the sun-warmed metal bar, and Reebok gets a twinkle in his eye at the signs of my weakness.
Dammit.
The bar starts to spin as I try to double over my grip, and the stress on my shoulders as it gets looser and looser is too much to handle.
I have to give in, putting my feet back to the pegs and climbing down, defeated. I couldn’t risk it, though, knowing an uncontrolled fall from the bar would be way too jarring for a baby as young as Iz.
Flynn pats me on the shoulder in consolation, and I hang my head with a shake. “I’m sorry, Iz,” I whisper down at her sweet face. “I know I’m letting the team down.”
But I swear, she tries to crack her first smile at me.
“Thanks, babe,” I tell her, grateful for the support.
Subtlety gone, Flynn and I plant ourselves there as Reebok pays his money and tries his hand. I widen my stance and put my hands to my hips, and Flynn boosts the boys higher so they can get a better view. The fish can hang out on the ground a little longer.
“No way this guy is going to do this, right?” I remark under my breath, to which Flynn replies with a snort that says, no fucking way.
I nod, confidence renewed. We got this.
Reebok climbs the pegs and grabs the bar, his cargo shorts billowing in the wind. The clock starts its count, and the longer it goes, the sicker to my stomach I start to feel.