Slumdog Cheese

Parenthood means sacrifice. Not referring here to the sleep deprivation we have experienced with little Max. No, true sacrifice means a trip to Chuck-E-Cheese. On Tuesday, Noah's birthday, we headed over to our local Chuck-E-Cheese (Slumdog Cheese is what I now call it) for the first time as parents. Funny how different things look from the otherside. My memories from my childhood are sparkling and  magical. As a parent,  it was like stepping over to the other side of the tracks. The whole place felt like one big health violation. An inch of dust on the dining tables, unruly 5 year olds running wild with no parents in sight, and the parents that were in sight wearing outfits that I can only assume they were wearing to the clubs later that evening. On our magical evening, my dad got punched by one of the unruly 5 year olds, Noah's popsicle fell on someone's band-aid, and we paid 8o dollars for some pizza that so-far, noone has called me threatening a hospital bill. In my view, Chuck's place needs a serious upheaval. But still, Noah came out of it sparkling. Its amazing what a 45 minute bath in Lysol can do.

Dad, Noah, and Chuck

The boys and the toys

Noah was not happy. Couldn't blame him. The rides all produced the same circular jerking motion that gives you a stiff neck just watching.

Here's my brother-in-law and I enjoying the fine dining. The conversation went something like, "Do you know what time it is? Really...we've only been here 20 minutes?! Was thinking it had already been 2 hours, at least."

And then we finally found something to make the birthday boy smile. This gigantic popsicle. 

Look at that face...sheer delight.

Until he dropped the ginormous thing on the ground. "Rinse it off," someone suggested - to my horror. There should be a sign posted that says, "The 5 second rule does not apply at Chuck's. Please buy your child a new food item." So here is Noah enjoying popsicle # 2. And all is well in the world again.

Which lasted all of 5 seconds before it fell on the floor. Right on someone's used bandaid. 

"Hello, dad? Can you bring me another popsicle? Just keep them coming so I don't have to call again."

We capped off the night with a ride on the giant horse. Here is Noah clinging to dad for dear life.

And all week long its been, "Mommy, horse is scaaaaary." "Its ok buddy," I say. "Horse went bye-bye." Is it so wrong if I use that scary horse as the excuse if he wants to go back? I mean really, I can buy those giant popsicles at the store and we all win.