We pulled up Saturday to the parking lot of Chuck E. Cheese's. Although I tried to persuade my son that the Chuckster was a rat, he assured me, "No, it's a mouse, daddy!" We got invited to this wonderful place because of a birthday party one of my son's friends was having. Thanks, Todd and Tara, for the invite!
Have you been to Mr. Cheese's abode on a Saturday afternoon? Unbelievable! I stopped counting at 936 children. I realized, though, that a transition had taken place. I only got to play skee-ball 1 time, and I didn't even make it to the MarioKart game. This day, however, was not about me, but about my son. Instead, I was in the preschool playland most of the time, watching Canaan ride the Barney ride, the Bob-the-Builder-Ride, and the School Bus Ride (which I must say seemed to be the exact same ride with a little different music). We even got to see the main mouse himself, in a little choreographed routine (Canaan wasn't so sure about this).
As I took some Excedrin, I thought about my feelings toward the Chuckster's domain. I thought of a couple of things, but they didn't matter when I saw Canaan's face light up because he had just gotten (drum roll, please) TWO TICKETS for playing a certain game in which you knock ducks down. Then, I realized, nothing can be better than a Chuck E. Cheese birthday party on a Saturday afternoon!
--Curtis
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