Rocket Man

Last night we revived an old family tradition – launching model rockets.

The Husband went through a several-year phase of rocket making and launching when our kids were quite young. He’d spend hours teaching them about the physics involved in balance, load, boost, etc. And then more hours with them painting, decorating, and naming the creations to be shot into the sky. Our favorites included rockets named:

  • Barbie-Q – With everyone’s favorite Mattel fashion doll strapped to the side
  • K.C. Monsterpiece – This was named after our Oldest whose first two initials are K.C., and it took me a while to talk The Husband out of including packets of KC Masterpiece barbecue sauce in the rocket barrel.
  • Lettuce Spray – Conceived one Sunday morning during the “prayers of the people,” (Let us pray?), this rocket was packed with salad that ejected when the parachute came out.
  • G-Force – Named after The Boy (who we called G-Man when he was little), this one was so enormous it was taller than The Boy was at the time.

A couple of summers ago The Boy built a few rockets that he never got around to launching. Something reminded him last night, and he headed out the door for an evening launch (the best time of day, as the wind tends to die down). Middle Sister and I weren’t doing anything so we went along to cheer – a rocket-launch is no fun without an audience.

rocket 1It was a beautiful evening. Clear sky, low 70’s, mild breeze – we needed jackets. The Boy had four good launches before it started to get too dark. And as I remember ALWAYS happening, I said “I think it’s getting a little dark – we should probably call it a night.” And The Boy answered,”No, there’s enough light still. I’ll do one more and then we’ll go.”

Truly – always always ALWAYS the last rocket gets lost. Every single time we ever went out for a launch night, the male in charge (previously The Husband, now The Boy) pushed it one last time, and the rest of us got dragged into walking an enormous open field at twilight, straining our eyes to find that last, lost rocket. And of course it was always someone’s favorite. Sometimes we found them, sometimes we didn’t. Lesson: For Pete’s sake, listen to your wife/mother!

Last night we didn’t find it. So the boy went out at daybreak to search some more. No luck. But the search was good fodder for another “stupid teenager” post to come soon.

rocket 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

rocket 3

 

rocket 4

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