That's Savage AF, Fam

This past weekend, Danger Girl and I took our children to Kings Island. I'd expected it to be a lot more crowded than it was; there was a forecast for heavy rain that never exactly panned out. John's not tall enough for all of the coasters so I took him to the "Planet Snoopy" kids area while DG and her clone went to try the Diamondback.
"If I am going to ride this kiddie coaster," John announced, "I want to sit at the very front." So we got in line for the front of the coaster... and that's where my kid, like Keyser Soze, showed this man of will what will really was.
We were next in line for the front seat. A little blonde girl and her mom walked up behind us. John assessed the situation briefly.
"Dad," he said, "I've decided I'd like to have some alone time. I'd like to sit in this seat by myself."
"Um, okay," I responded, and moved to the second-seat line. Then John looked at the blonde.
"Would you," he asked, "like to ride with..." and here he made a sort of sweeping, Astaire-esque gesture, "...me?"
"Yes, I want to ride with you," the girl said. The mother and I exchanged looks. She was maybe fifteen years younger than I was, and at some point she'd been a solid Ohio 8, but now she was a solid Ohio size 22W.
"Are we double-dating?" I asked, trying to figure out how we'd both fit in the car.
"Oh, I'm scared of these things," she graciously replied, and stepped through the coaster to the far side. As I settled in behind John and his impromptu date, I thought back to 1982 or so, which would have been the first time I went to Kings Island. At the time, this coaster was called the Beastie. It was probably the first roller coaster I ever rode. I know for a fact that it was the first roller coaster that Bark ever rode. John's much less frightened of coasters than I was, or than Bark was; he was five years old when he rode the Corkscrew at Cedar Point for the first time.

On the way up the hill, John started mansplaining to the girl how they both had to hold their hands up on the way down. Her hand briefly sought his; he shook it off and raised his arms above his head. It was utterly hilarious. As the coaster came to a stop, he said, "We're riding this again!" She agreed. We got off the coaster and they ran down together to the mom. "WE'RE RIDING AGAIN!" they yelled. The mom looked at me. I shrugged.
There was a pause. John looked around. "Actually," he said, "I want to ride a bigger coaster. Goodbye!" And he walked away without looking back.
"Guess we're off the hook," I said to the mother, and took off after the kid. We went on the river-raft ride then headed for the Racer, which we ended up riding seven times. Later on the day, John had us wait in line for the front seat of the mine-ride coaster.
"I'd like some alone time in the front seat," he said.
"Too bad, kid," was my reply. "You're stuck with me. Trust me, you'll cherish these moments when I'm gone."
"I don't think so," John mused. "And anyway, you can't be killed."
"Not so far, anyway," I agreed, as the brakes released and we rolled down to the chain lift.