Chuck E. Cheese, or Lord help me now.
Last Saturday, Mom and I took the kids into the city to see a show and I figured as long as we were going to be there, we may as well make a play for the best mom/grandma ever and take them to Chuck E. Cheese as well. I thought long and hard about this - would it be too much for one trip, would it get them all wound up for the main event later that night, would mom and I make it through? I knew how much they would love it and figured, hey, how bad could it be.
It was chaos, that's what it was. The kids were pretty well behaved, if not a little over stimulated by the casino-like action, but all-in-all I think they did very well. Sophie adored seeing Chuck in action and fought her way through the crowds of birthday party kids to stand at the stage and later gave him a hug.
Martin learned how to play air hockey.
They went on a few rides, this one the safest of the bunch.
This ride required an adult to whip around the poorly placed pedal in order to get it to work. And when it worked, the kids went high in the air, held in place by the "safety" belt.
This ride thankfully had room for two. Which was good because I'm pretty sure without having each other to bump up against, a single child may have slid right on out.
It may not have been the safest place, or the cleanest one, or the spot with the best food - but the kids loved it. And I guess that means that our mission was accomplished.
The whole time we were there I kept thinking about how grateful I was that it was my mom with me and the kids instead of dad or Marty. They both would have HATED the place. Dad would have removed his hearing aid upon arrival, and Marty would have had to run over to Walgreens to get his blood pressure checked. On the way out, I joked around about it.
Jennie: Who thinks daddy and Grandpa Pat would have liked Chuck E. Cheese?
Martin: Me!
Sophie: Me!
Mom: Not me.
Jennie: Not me either. If dad would have been here, he would have said "Geez, what the hell?"
Sophie: What the hell.
Jennie: Oh, Sophie, you shouldn't say that. It's a bad word. I was just making a joke when I said it.
Sophie: What the hell. I'll say it whenever I want to.
And now the joke is on me.
It was chaos, that's what it was. The kids were pretty well behaved, if not a little over stimulated by the casino-like action, but all-in-all I think they did very well. Sophie adored seeing Chuck in action and fought her way through the crowds of birthday party kids to stand at the stage and later gave him a hug.
Martin learned how to play air hockey.
They went on a few rides, this one the safest of the bunch.
This ride required an adult to whip around the poorly placed pedal in order to get it to work. And when it worked, the kids went high in the air, held in place by the "safety" belt.
This ride thankfully had room for two. Which was good because I'm pretty sure without having each other to bump up against, a single child may have slid right on out.
It may not have been the safest place, or the cleanest one, or the spot with the best food - but the kids loved it. And I guess that means that our mission was accomplished.
The whole time we were there I kept thinking about how grateful I was that it was my mom with me and the kids instead of dad or Marty. They both would have HATED the place. Dad would have removed his hearing aid upon arrival, and Marty would have had to run over to Walgreens to get his blood pressure checked. On the way out, I joked around about it.
Jennie: Who thinks daddy and Grandpa Pat would have liked Chuck E. Cheese?
Martin: Me!
Sophie: Me!
Mom: Not me.
Jennie: Not me either. If dad would have been here, he would have said "Geez, what the hell?"
Sophie: What the hell.
Jennie: Oh, Sophie, you shouldn't say that. It's a bad word. I was just making a joke when I said it.
Sophie: What the hell. I'll say it whenever I want to.
And now the joke is on me.
I hate Chuck E. Cheese (or Chuck E. Cheesie's as my children call it). I am pretty sure it is the seventh level of hell. What I do enjoy is leaving my children there for birthday parties. waving goodbye and thanking my lucky stars I am not the mom in charge. Hating when I pick them up and hear, "It was so funny, James decided to start punching the anamatronic Chuck E." Oh I am so proud. James says, "I had rootbeer. It's really good." Apparently sugar induced rage aimed at giant creepy mice is the norm.
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This was a great post and loved Susan's response. I don't think you two could have described the place any better, What the hell...
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