Sky High Enthusiasms & Learning To Fly

There’s a chapter in Barry Prizant’s book Uniquely Human where he writes about “enthusiasms.” Not obsessions. Not quirks. But genuine passions that give kids purpose, belonging, and joy. His advice? Don’t squash them. Don’t ignore them. Use them. Build a life around them.

I’ve been trying to zero in on Otto’s most beloved enthusiasms. At the top of the list: airplanes, swimming, rollercoasters. The common denominator? A craving for weightlessness. The subconscious relief of floating through a world that can sometimes feel unbearably heavy.

We first met Doug during “Airport Day” in August, where he was letting folks sit in the pilot’s seat of his 1949 Stinson 108-3 Voyager.

Every person at the airport feels like an open door—I just have to find the courage to push through. For me, the biggest hurdle isn’t security clearance. It’s my introverted brain whispering, don’t bother them… they’ll say no.

So I blurted out: “Hi, my name is Marial, and this is my son Otto.”

Doug didn’t miss a beat: “Is this THE OTTO?”

And just like that, my son had achieved local airport celebrity status. 

“Do you own this plane?” I asked, already assuming the answer.

“Yes,” Doug replied, “and I’d be happy to take Otto for a ride.”

Holding back my disparity for immediate take-off, I respected the man’s own life and patiently exchanged numbers and after what can only be described as a series of “enthusiastic” follow-up texts (Barry Pizant would have been proud), we finally got the green light.

When we arrived at Doug’s Airventures Flight School, the first thing I saw was Doug bottle-feeding his newborn, Duke, while talking shop with a circle of aviators. Honestly, I knew right then: these were our people. It felt like a sign (as I am always looking for them now) that Otto was truly in good hands. 

“Now, who’s flying the plane today?” Doug asked.

“YES!” shouted Otto, flapping his arms and jumping amongst a circle of seasoned flight vets. 

The reality of the situation didn’t occur to me until Doug demonstrated how Mom & Dad were to get in the back of the plane, a tight squeeze for such a big moment. The cabin was not big enough for where my imagination was taking me.

Doug boosted Otto up with two extra pillows so he could see out the window, slipped the headset on his little head, and fired up the Stinson. Clear prop. The dream was taking off—literally.

At about 1,000 feet, Doug let Otto take the yoke. Assisted, yes—but Otto was undeniably in control of his own joy.

Before landing, Doug decided to end with a bang. “Okay Otto, last chance to fly. Push the elevator all the way forward.”

And just like that, my 3-year-old experienced zero gravity. Was this a valuable life lesson in free fall… or just Doug needing some comic relief? Hard to say. Either way, it was radical. Otto couldn’t stop giggling about “the feeling in his shirt.”

On the ride home, I kept shaking my head in disbelief. My little boy—my three-year-old—had just completed his first discovery flight in the co-pilot’s seat.

Whether it’s 1,000 feet above the ground or 1,000 feet under the water, Otto finds his safe place in the extreme edges of experience. His enthusiasms are not distractions. They are his joy, his purpose, his sense of belonging.

Prizant reminds us that enthusiasms are the key to connection and growth for kids like Otto. Watching him fly wasn’t just about airplanes—it was about lifting him into the space where his passions can carry him higher than gravity ever will.