Chuck Effing Cheese
October 12, 2007
Guess what! We went to Chuck E. Cheese yesterday.
It went super well.
Oh fine, Noah actually did have fun -- his own Noah-ish kind of fun; the kind that involves just sort of wandering around aimlessly and suspiciously, perhaps occasionally deigning to go down a slide....
Pausing, of course, to read the Toddler Zone Safety Guidelines on the wall first.
Or to play with the boring toys that other kids ignore in favor of the ones with GIANT SMASHING HAMMER THINGS...
Seek the tomb of a knight a pope interred? WTF?
Or to watch the giant singing rat from a respectful distance...
Hey now! You're an all-star! Get your game on! For $20 in tokens, go play!
Or to just be the all-around most serious child ever to set foot in the place...
Did everybody here get their Kid Check hand stamp? Yes? Good.
He liked sitting in some of the rides, but freaked out if I put a token in and made it move or light up or do absolutely anything at all. It was kind of sweet, though, the way he would frantically sign ALL DONE ALL DONE and then run off in search of more stationary fun, like a row of HIGH CHAIRS WHEE AWESOME!
So I took our tokens and played some skeeball. Maybe a lot of skeeball.
I got pretty good.
Total winnings: 615 tickets, including a few ill-gotten ones since we got there right after they opened, and apparently the games all shoot out a strip of tickets when they get turned on (dirty!), so we casually wandered around and collected all the extra tickets. We scored about 85 tickets this way, which is enough for a very small harmonica or four Tootsie Rolls.
My 615 tickets got me some kind of rubbery choking hazard that sort of resembles a lion, a Spider Man coin purse because Noah clearly needs something to keep all his dollah bills and bizness cards in, and a hard pointy plastic dinosaur that is now his most cherished possession ever and the reason for the photo at the top of this post. He kept dropping the dinosaur behind the TV cabinet and then weeping over the loss, then I would retrieve the stupid thing only to have him intentionally drop it again. And then he would cry. Because. He dropped the toy he wanted. On purpose. Over and over. Again.
(What was I saying about two? What?)
Chuck E. Cheese. Guaranteed to moderately amuse your child, bring out the compulsive gambler/skeeball hustler in yourself, and leave both of you cranky and overstimulated for the next two days straight. Oh, and the pizza might give you the bends. Maybe. So I've heard.
Hey kids! It's Camel Toe Dance Party USA!