I suppose that we've been fortunate. Very fortunate. Despite our daughter Su being over 4 years old, we had managed to somehow avoid entering into that very pit of hopelessness -- despair, if you will -- that is almost sure to entrap most any parents of good conscience. We had somehow positioned ourselves among a wonderful circle of parents. Birthday parties at a child's home. Gatherings in the park. Fun at museums. No McDonald's Playland. No Chuck-E-Cheese.
Until two weeks ago.
Oh, the horror. The blood-curdling screams resonating through the entryway. The crying. The whining. The yelling. And that was just from Anita and myself. Add to that the cheese and sauce mixture they call pizza. The finger-shaped, crusted dairy (I think) product called cheese sticks. Fortunately, they serve beer. Unfortunately, I didn't have any.
Su wasn't too particularly taken in by the noise or the games. She seemed put off by the fast paced action and the volume of the place. But there was no way for Su to resist the lure of...
CHUCK E.
The gasp from her mouth and the wide-eyed look of awe when first introduced to that giant-sized rodent told me that we were not getting out of there early. Nope. We were in it for the afternoon. But all was not totally lost. We were able to exchange all of Su's winning tickets for a sticker, a tattoo, and a quick run for the door.
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