Tyler, my cousin, was five years old the last time I saw him. We were at Disneyland and he terribly wanted to go on Big Thunder Railroad, a rollercoaster that all of the adults and us older children figured he was much too young for. He pleaded, cajoled, and wormed his way onto the ride despite our best arguments against it. When the ride was over, he climbed out of the seat in tears, crying so hard his poor little body was shaking. When we tried to comfort him, he squirmed away and stomped his foot. “I want to go on it again!”
I haven’t seen him since then. He’s got to be about twenty now.