To occupy the kid and ourselves this summer, Kiddo’s dad and I bought passes to a local amusement park. Its a few minutes drive from my house and we can park in my favorite dive bar’s parking lot for free, where I can look longingly at the neon beer signs, sigh dramatically and resign to riding moderately entertaining rollercoasters with those of the elite 48” Or Higher Club.
We’ve yet to ride a handful of the better rides. The ones that go upside down and backwards while the movie reel of your life plays before your eyes and your heart pumps from inside of your mouth and your blood rushes to all the places where it shouldn’t hang out in such large quantities. We’ll get to those on one of the kid-free days we experience when Kiddo has a sleepover* with my family.
*Someone could promise me a million dollar check and my kid a sleepover at Grammy’s and we would react with the exact some amount of excitement and gratefulness.
We’ve gone three times now. It can be a doozy on the knees and hips until I remind myself that I’m twenty-five and shouldn’t be griping about my aches and pains quite yet. I still have time for my bones to age and creak. It will be about that time that I start caring about matching silverware and the wrinkles in my linens.
You may have noticed, things are pretty swank in the mom-and-dad department. *grin*
-CJ
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