Saturday was about redemption.
Four years ago, my husband Jamie and I attempted to fly the expensive stunt kites we had requested for Christmas.
And four years ago, our then-baby Hadley repeatedly escaped death as our kites dive-bombed the ground at speeds fast enough to kill, welp, a small child.
It was our first and only attempt at kite-flying.
Last weekend, I decided it was time to resurrect Said Kites of Death at the 8th annual Arvada Kite Festival. There were prizes awarded for the highest, smallest, largest and most visually appealing kites but my ambitions were simple: I wanted to learn how to simply fly one.
For those unfamiliar with stunt kites, they are a complicated species. With two different lines to manoeuvre, figuring out which line to pull at the exact moment the wind takes it is about as easy as passing college physics (hence the reason why I took it three times).
My husband Jamie conveniently had a prior commitment so I recruited my children and four unsuspecting house guests who were visiting from Arizona. When we arrived at Robby Ferrufino Park, hundreds of kite-flying enthusiasts and spectators were gathered to watch the colorful creations soar.
I assigned guests Ray and Val to the stunt kite while I assembled the $10 Target kite for my kids. My strategy was to let my friends figure out the stunt kite and then impart their greater light and knowledge upon me. In the interim, I would blissfully lope across the field with my Kite for Dummies.
Only this dummy couldn’t get it up in the air.
You know: the kite that was supposed to be easy.
All around me, kites were