I didn't have a chance to sit down this weekend and crank out an entry, so I'll do it now, on my lunch break. This post might have to serve double-duty, as I've got a lot on my plate this coming weekend as well. The big Indie 500 crossword puzzle tournament is on Saturday, so that knocks out an entire day for me -- in a very enjoyable manner. I'm not going to finish among the contenders -- there will be some ridiculously fast solvers in attendance, and I'm more into constructing than solving -- but still, it's a lot of fun to hobnob with my fellow cruciverbalists. I'm looking forward to it.
Last Saturday, we took the kids to Sesame Place, a relatively small Sesame Street themed amusement park outside of Philadelphia. It was fun day, but it was a long day. We woke up early with the intent of getting to the park when it opened at 10 a.m. (it's about a two and a half hour drive), but we got there closer to 11. The delay was mostly caused by me, but S compounded the problem. One thing about her that drives me crazy is when she's making us run late, she flips out if I try to so much as gentle nudge her along, but when I'm running late, she has no patience whatsoever, and she does things that are actively counterproductive just because... well, I don't really know why -- to prove a point? Because she gets antsy? I'm not sure.
The reason I was running late is because I forgot to move some clothes from the washing machine into the dryer the night before. Then as I was walking out the door, I remembered, and I didn't want the clothes to get that mildewy smell they get if you leave them in the wash for a long time, so I moved them into the dryer before we left. S was already on the way to the car with the kids when I had to double back, so she was annoyed, which I understand, but instead of waiting for a few minutes, she left to get gas. This made no sense as there is a gas station on the way to the highway we were taking, like, right on the way, like, no turns or parking lots, like, you could not have something more on the way than this -- you can pull in, fill up, and pull out, all in about two minutes, literally. Yet instead of doing this, S got gas, and I waited for them for at least five minutes. So we actually lost time. But of course it wasn't really about our time; it was about S being annoyed and not wanting to wait for me.
So the drive up was a bit icy initially, but things thawed as they always do, and we had a nice day at the park. We went on a roller coaster first, because Lil' S1 wanted to try it out. It was his first roller coaster. I'm not sure if he liked it or not. He said it was fun, but he also said it was scary, and he didn't ask to go on it again. In general, he didn't seem that into the rides, which was fine by me, as I hate amusement park rides. At best they make me feel only mildly nauseous. Lil' S1 was much more interested in the water-park section.
But before we did that we went to this special lunch at which you are served terrible, terrible food in the presence of a bunch of poor schmoes in oversize Sesame Street costumes. It was pretty fun though. The kids seemed to like it, and we got some decent pics out of it. You can take a picture with your phone with any of the characters except Elmo. For Elmo, you have to wait in a special line in a roped off area, where they have an in-house photographer who takes all the pics. Then if you want one, you have to buy it. That's how they get you -- or try to get you, anyway. We didn't fall for it. Cookie Monster was good enough for us.
After lunch (if you could call it that) we met up with two other families, one we were planning on meeting, the other one, some friends from school, we just chanced upon. (I'd say it's a small world, but that's a different theme park... get it?) We spent most the day at the water park. The water was super cold, for some reason, and it was quite overcast, so it was kinda chilly, but it was also nice because there were no crowds anywhere. You could go right up to all the water slides without waiting in line. I'd trade that for beautiful weather every time. The water there is never deeper than a few feet, but it still makes me really nervous because Lil' S1 can't swim yet. (He's taking lessons this fall.) We had him in a life jacket initially, but then he wasn't allowed to go down any of the slides, so we took it off, and just kept a close eye on him. He was fine.
The demographics at Sesame Place obviously skew toward young parents, and in the water park people are obviously scantly clad, so it was tattoo central. I usually hate it when older people rag on younger generations (don't even get me started will all the people my age and older who have never accomplished anything of not, but think today's youth is being ruined by "participation trophies"), but I have to say -- what the fuck is up with all the tats now?
When I was in high school the older brother of a friend of mine got a small tattoo on his ankle, and I thought it was a big deal. Then the great tattoo arms race began. People in my generation started getting tattoos, usually in inconspicuous places, like the back or the shoulder, maybe the chest or the foot, and then it moved to the bicep and then all the way down the arm (sleeves), and now it's just a total free-for-all. You see white dudes with Ed Hardy-esque designs covering their entire legs; black dudes with cursive writing all over their bodies that you can't quite make out (is that scripture or the names of ex-girlfriends?); chicks of all colors with stars running up the napes of their necks. And it's not just one or two or even four or five. It's quite common to see people -- normal parents with small kids -- covered from head to toe in tats.
I'm not trying to be a hater, but I just don't get it. Why do you want to imprint something you were feeling at 23 onto your body for the rest of your life? The best you could reasonable hope for in that situation is that you look at it at age 38 and aren't completely embarrassed by it. Does anybody look at their tattoos fifteen years down the line and think, "Man, this is so bad ass! I'm so glad I got it! 23-year-old me really knew what they were doing!" And then there is the irony of branding yourself with a symbol of individuality... just like everybody else your age. As Lisa Simpson once said, "how rebellious. In a conformist sort of way."
Well, not me. I'm not getting a tattoo, and therefore I'm the real rebel, right? (At least until they go out of fashion, which is bound to happen sometime soon.) Oh, and by the way, if you are reading this and you have a tattoo, like, say, maybe you are my wife, I'm not talking about you, of course. I love your tattoo. It's everybody else, not you.
You know who I feel sorry for, though? The first person who got a tattoo band around their bicep. They just thought they were getting a cool looking bit of body art. Little did they know, through no fault of their own, they were soon going to become a walking cliché of douchebaggery. It's similar to how I feel about parents who give their kid the new cool, trendy name just before it becomes the new cool, trendy name. They just thought it was a nice, interesting name, and then a few years later they realize every third kid at their child's school is named the same thing. Because it's not like you can do much about it. It's not like you can tell people, "Hi, this is our son Max, and we thought of it first!"
Anyway...
The rest of the park was fun. We lost two kids, but they were found rather quickly. Our friends' daughter ran ahead a little too quickly and got separated from the pack. She's a little bit older than our kids (7, I think), and so she had enough sense to find a helpful-looking woman and ask her to call her mom (she also knows her mom's phone number which is good). But her mom knew where she was running off to, so she caught up to her as she was receiving the call.
Then, in a scarier moment, Lil' S1 took off to try to buy candy when S and I had our backs turned. He specifically waited until we weren't looking, ran to the candy shop, and asked them for candy. When they told him he needed money, he started asking random patrons if they would give him money. Quickly somebody realized his parents weren't around, so they had an employee take him to Lost Children, where S was waiting in tears. He was missing for probably about ten minutes, which, when it comes to a lost kid, feels like an eon.
I was definitely concerned, but I never got to the point of full-fledged panic. (This is when my robotic nature is a good thing.) I went straight to the exits. I figured if he was in the park, he was very likely to be found by S before too long (which is what happened), as the park isn't that big, so I just needed to make sure he didn't slip out, either through his own volition, or, in the nightmare scenario, through somebody else's. In the latter case, I was ready to put my Krav Maga skills to an early test.
But thankfully there was no need. I laid into him pretty good about running away (after giving him an initial hug and kiss of relief, of course). I was trying to put the fear of god into him. I'm not in favor of physical punishment, but if I was, this would have been a good time for it. The thing is he still doesn't totally get it. In retrospect, I think he realized what he did was wrong, but I don't think he thought it was wrong at the time. He wanted candy, and we told him no, so he figured eluding us and begging strangers for money was a reasonable option. It would be funny, if it wasn't real life.
He's starting to get sneakier in general, like, he'll lie to me, and then when I call him on it, he'll say, "Ha! Tricked you!" or "Just joking!" and act as if it was all a prefabricate gag, which it clearly wasn't. Fortunately, he's so transparent in his antics -- "Daddy, put a chair under the place where the fruit snacks are, and then leave and don't come back until I say so, okay?" -- that he can't get away with much, but it's only a matter of time until he gets savvier. And then what? I guess that's a question every parent has to grapple with in due time.
And speaking of time, I'm out of it.
Until next time...
Last Saturday, we took the kids to Sesame Place, a relatively small Sesame Street themed amusement park outside of Philadelphia. It was fun day, but it was a long day. We woke up early with the intent of getting to the park when it opened at 10 a.m. (it's about a two and a half hour drive), but we got there closer to 11. The delay was mostly caused by me, but S compounded the problem. One thing about her that drives me crazy is when she's making us run late, she flips out if I try to so much as gentle nudge her along, but when I'm running late, she has no patience whatsoever, and she does things that are actively counterproductive just because... well, I don't really know why -- to prove a point? Because she gets antsy? I'm not sure.
The reason I was running late is because I forgot to move some clothes from the washing machine into the dryer the night before. Then as I was walking out the door, I remembered, and I didn't want the clothes to get that mildewy smell they get if you leave them in the wash for a long time, so I moved them into the dryer before we left. S was already on the way to the car with the kids when I had to double back, so she was annoyed, which I understand, but instead of waiting for a few minutes, she left to get gas. This made no sense as there is a gas station on the way to the highway we were taking, like, right on the way, like, no turns or parking lots, like, you could not have something more on the way than this -- you can pull in, fill up, and pull out, all in about two minutes, literally. Yet instead of doing this, S got gas, and I waited for them for at least five minutes. So we actually lost time. But of course it wasn't really about our time; it was about S being annoyed and not wanting to wait for me.
So the drive up was a bit icy initially, but things thawed as they always do, and we had a nice day at the park. We went on a roller coaster first, because Lil' S1 wanted to try it out. It was his first roller coaster. I'm not sure if he liked it or not. He said it was fun, but he also said it was scary, and he didn't ask to go on it again. In general, he didn't seem that into the rides, which was fine by me, as I hate amusement park rides. At best they make me feel only mildly nauseous. Lil' S1 was much more interested in the water-park section.
But before we did that we went to this special lunch at which you are served terrible, terrible food in the presence of a bunch of poor schmoes in oversize Sesame Street costumes. It was pretty fun though. The kids seemed to like it, and we got some decent pics out of it. You can take a picture with your phone with any of the characters except Elmo. For Elmo, you have to wait in a special line in a roped off area, where they have an in-house photographer who takes all the pics. Then if you want one, you have to buy it. That's how they get you -- or try to get you, anyway. We didn't fall for it. Cookie Monster was good enough for us.
After lunch (if you could call it that) we met up with two other families, one we were planning on meeting, the other one, some friends from school, we just chanced upon. (I'd say it's a small world, but that's a different theme park... get it?) We spent most the day at the water park. The water was super cold, for some reason, and it was quite overcast, so it was kinda chilly, but it was also nice because there were no crowds anywhere. You could go right up to all the water slides without waiting in line. I'd trade that for beautiful weather every time. The water there is never deeper than a few feet, but it still makes me really nervous because Lil' S1 can't swim yet. (He's taking lessons this fall.) We had him in a life jacket initially, but then he wasn't allowed to go down any of the slides, so we took it off, and just kept a close eye on him. He was fine.
The demographics at Sesame Place obviously skew toward young parents, and in the water park people are obviously scantly clad, so it was tattoo central. I usually hate it when older people rag on younger generations (don't even get me started will all the people my age and older who have never accomplished anything of not, but think today's youth is being ruined by "participation trophies"), but I have to say -- what the fuck is up with all the tats now?
When I was in high school the older brother of a friend of mine got a small tattoo on his ankle, and I thought it was a big deal. Then the great tattoo arms race began. People in my generation started getting tattoos, usually in inconspicuous places, like the back or the shoulder, maybe the chest or the foot, and then it moved to the bicep and then all the way down the arm (sleeves), and now it's just a total free-for-all. You see white dudes with Ed Hardy-esque designs covering their entire legs; black dudes with cursive writing all over their bodies that you can't quite make out (is that scripture or the names of ex-girlfriends?); chicks of all colors with stars running up the napes of their necks. And it's not just one or two or even four or five. It's quite common to see people -- normal parents with small kids -- covered from head to toe in tats.
I'm not trying to be a hater, but I just don't get it. Why do you want to imprint something you were feeling at 23 onto your body for the rest of your life? The best you could reasonable hope for in that situation is that you look at it at age 38 and aren't completely embarrassed by it. Does anybody look at their tattoos fifteen years down the line and think, "Man, this is so bad ass! I'm so glad I got it! 23-year-old me really knew what they were doing!" And then there is the irony of branding yourself with a symbol of individuality... just like everybody else your age. As Lisa Simpson once said, "how rebellious. In a conformist sort of way."
Well, not me. I'm not getting a tattoo, and therefore I'm the real rebel, right? (At least until they go out of fashion, which is bound to happen sometime soon.) Oh, and by the way, if you are reading this and you have a tattoo, like, say, maybe you are my wife, I'm not talking about you, of course. I love your tattoo. It's everybody else, not you.
[My "favorite" tattoo from this article of terrible NBA tattoos -- a guy blowing his brains out under the banner "ONLY THE STRONG SURVIVE". That's what I want on my forearm forever!]
You know who I feel sorry for, though? The first person who got a tattoo band around their bicep. They just thought they were getting a cool looking bit of body art. Little did they know, through no fault of their own, they were soon going to become a walking cliché of douchebaggery. It's similar to how I feel about parents who give their kid the new cool, trendy name just before it becomes the new cool, trendy name. They just thought it was a nice, interesting name, and then a few years later they realize every third kid at their child's school is named the same thing. Because it's not like you can do much about it. It's not like you can tell people, "Hi, this is our son Max, and we thought of it first!"
Anyway...
The rest of the park was fun. We lost two kids, but they were found rather quickly. Our friends' daughter ran ahead a little too quickly and got separated from the pack. She's a little bit older than our kids (7, I think), and so she had enough sense to find a helpful-looking woman and ask her to call her mom (she also knows her mom's phone number which is good). But her mom knew where she was running off to, so she caught up to her as she was receiving the call.
Then, in a scarier moment, Lil' S1 took off to try to buy candy when S and I had our backs turned. He specifically waited until we weren't looking, ran to the candy shop, and asked them for candy. When they told him he needed money, he started asking random patrons if they would give him money. Quickly somebody realized his parents weren't around, so they had an employee take him to Lost Children, where S was waiting in tears. He was missing for probably about ten minutes, which, when it comes to a lost kid, feels like an eon.
I was definitely concerned, but I never got to the point of full-fledged panic. (This is when my robotic nature is a good thing.) I went straight to the exits. I figured if he was in the park, he was very likely to be found by S before too long (which is what happened), as the park isn't that big, so I just needed to make sure he didn't slip out, either through his own volition, or, in the nightmare scenario, through somebody else's. In the latter case, I was ready to put my Krav Maga skills to an early test.
But thankfully there was no need. I laid into him pretty good about running away (after giving him an initial hug and kiss of relief, of course). I was trying to put the fear of god into him. I'm not in favor of physical punishment, but if I was, this would have been a good time for it. The thing is he still doesn't totally get it. In retrospect, I think he realized what he did was wrong, but I don't think he thought it was wrong at the time. He wanted candy, and we told him no, so he figured eluding us and begging strangers for money was a reasonable option. It would be funny, if it wasn't real life.
He's starting to get sneakier in general, like, he'll lie to me, and then when I call him on it, he'll say, "Ha! Tricked you!" or "Just joking!" and act as if it was all a prefabricate gag, which it clearly wasn't. Fortunately, he's so transparent in his antics -- "Daddy, put a chair under the place where the fruit snacks are, and then leave and don't come back until I say so, okay?" -- that he can't get away with much, but it's only a matter of time until he gets savvier. And then what? I guess that's a question every parent has to grapple with in due time.
And speaking of time, I'm out of it.
Until next time...
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