Good dad or bad dad?
Good dad: Took my daughter Casey to Hershey’s Park for a two-day daddy-daughter getaway. Had a wonderful time.
Bad dad: Tried to convince my daughter, who has ridden, oh, 15 different roller coasters, that she should try Fahrenheit, perhaps the biggest coaster at the park.
Good dad: Kept her hydrated on an excruciatingly hot day.
Bad dad: Offered to bribe her if she goes on Fahrenheit.
Good dad: Listen lovingly as she says, “Well, what are you offering?”
Bad dad: Offer three amusement park games and, uh, soda.
Good dad: Give her 10 minutes to make a decision.
Bad dad: Cringe when she leans toward not going on.
Good dad: Smile when she says, “OK, I’ll do it.”
Bad dad: Lie to her when we’re waiting on line. “This thing isn’t even that big. You’ve been on tons of scarier rides.”
Good dad: I’m running out of stuff for this category.
Bad dad: We get on the ride. The harness is locked in. Casey begins to sob. The guy working there says, “Do you want to get off?” She shakes her head, “Nooo …”
Good dad: I hold her hand and tell her everything will be OK.
Bad dad: We start moving. The first hill is, literally, straight up, 90 degrees from the ground (Wikipedia lists it as the second steepest coaster in the world). She says, “I don’t want to do this.” To which I reply, “Four games!”
Good dad: I feel awful about being a shit father.
Bad dad: We’re still climbing 121 feet into the air.
Good dad: The drop is approaching, and I’m worried.
Bad dad: I’m mostly worried about me.
Good dad: We head down the hill, and Casey is screaming—for absolute joy. “Whooooo!!!! Yeah!!!!!! Whoooooo!!!!”
Bad dad: Skip.
Good dad: She’s still screaming. And smiling. Euphoric.
Bad dad: Skip.
Good dad: The ride ends. “Can we do that again?!” she squeals. “Can we!”
Bad dad: “Sure.”
Good dad: I’m euphoric.
Bad dad: We only play three games.