When my sons were small, family vacations primarily consisted of trips to meet up with other dysfunctional relatives for reunions. Being there was fun. Getting there...not so much.
On those long trips I spent the majority of the car ride twisted like a pretzel in the front seat, either answering the whine of "When will we be there?" ad nauseam or playing referee between my two sons while they committed such atrocities as breathing on one other. After endless hours of listening to cassette tapes of 70's music, we would fill the void by playing such lively games as 'I spy something...' and 'Slug Bug'.
It's safe to say our trips pretty much mirrored those of the Griswold family --- me screaming at my sons to "get along and act like you're having fun!" as they managed to dodge my blindly swatting hand with ninja-like skills of evasion. Oblivious to the drama, the Dickman never missed a beat while drumming Inna Gadda Da Vida on the steering wheel.
I'm sure it was his fond memories of those trips that gave Lucas a moment's hesitation when we offered to wisk two of his perfect children off for a quick trip to DFW. The fact that we were only staying one night weighed heavily in our favor. (Because really...how much could we warp his babies in just two days?) He agreed to let us take his little darlins on two stipulations: 1) that we take his brother Jacob along for a chaperone, and 2) that we drive his family van, equipped with 5-point harness safety seats and a custom DVD player.
Good call, Lucas.
On those long trips I spent the majority of the car ride twisted like a pretzel in the front seat, either answering the whine of "When will we be there?" ad nauseam or playing referee between my two sons while they committed such atrocities as breathing on one other. After endless hours of listening to cassette tapes of 70's music, we would fill the void by playing such lively games as 'I spy something...' and 'Slug Bug'.
It's safe to say our trips pretty much mirrored those of the Griswold family --- me screaming at my sons to "get along and act like you're having fun!" as they managed to dodge my blindly swatting hand with ninja-like skills of evasion. Oblivious to the drama, the Dickman never missed a beat while drumming Inna Gadda Da Vida on the steering wheel.
I'm sure it was his fond memories of those trips that gave Lucas a moment's hesitation when we offered to wisk two of his perfect children off for a quick trip to DFW. The fact that we were only staying one night weighed heavily in our favor. (Because really...how much could we warp his babies in just two days?) He agreed to let us take his little darlins on two stipulations: 1) that we take his brother Jacob along for a chaperone, and 2) that we drive his family van, equipped with 5-point harness safety seats and a custom DVD player.
Good call, Lucas.
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DAY ONE
Can I just say that nothing makes a five hour car trip with young children easier than hypnotising them by playing Blue's Clues on a loop? Today's vehicular DVD players are the equivalent of our generation's practice of dosing the kids with Benadryl and singing 14 rousing choruses of "99 Bottles of Beer".
Can I just say that nothing makes a five hour car trip with young children easier than hypnotising them by playing Blue's Clues on a loop? Today's vehicular DVD players are the equivalent of our generation's practice of dosing the kids with Benadryl and singing 14 rousing choruses of "99 Bottles of Beer".
(Road Trip Nirvana)
Even the lull of the DVD couldn't completely calm the buzz of excitement in the car headed down Highway 287 for Six Flags. Call me crazy, but no matter how many candles wind up on my birthday cake...Six Flags will always be one of my favorite places.
And here I was, taking two of my favorite short people to one of my favorite places. Perhaps such overt excitement was to blame for my shortsidedness in forgetting a few unfortunate morsels of information: not only were we hitting Six Flags on one of the hottest days in Texas history, but both my body and I had aged at least 15 years since our last trip to Six Flags.
It was shocking to find the only people older than Dickie and I who worked at Six Flags were the park maintenance people. When did that happen?
As for the heat...we found that sweating every last drop of moisture from your body pretty much takes care of having to tinkle in a public park restroom.
Other than making sure we never missed a drop of mist, our other strategery for staying cool was to sit quietly on the the exhausted backs of the painted ponies running in circles under the shaded carousel...
...or to loiter in the air-conditioned gift shops until Mandie or Mattman started licking the candy.
Speaking of licking...it was worth the price of admission to discover that age does not diminish the delightful taste of a Pink Thing! But disheartening to remember that a three-digit temperature combined with amusement park food combined with roller coasters is a surefire recipe for disaster. After all, these rides were specifically designed to extract vomit from kids filled with Pink Things and curly fries.
Or more precisely, adults filled with Pappasito's mexican food.
And here I was, taking two of my favorite short people to one of my favorite places. Perhaps such overt excitement was to blame for my shortsidedness in forgetting a few unfortunate morsels of information: not only were we hitting Six Flags on one of the hottest days in Texas history, but both my body and I had aged at least 15 years since our last trip to Six Flags.
It was shocking to find the only people older than Dickie and I who worked at Six Flags were the park maintenance people. When did that happen?
As for the heat...we found that sweating every last drop of moisture from your body pretty much takes care of having to tinkle in a public park restroom.
Other than making sure we never missed a drop of mist, our other strategery for staying cool was to sit quietly on the the exhausted backs of the painted ponies running in circles under the shaded carousel...
...or to loiter in the air-conditioned gift shops until Mandie or Mattman started licking the candy.Speaking of licking...it was worth the price of admission to discover that age does not diminish the delightful taste of a Pink Thing! But disheartening to remember that a three-digit temperature combined with amusement park food combined with roller coasters is a surefire recipe for disaster. After all, these rides were specifically designed to extract vomit from kids filled with Pink Things and curly fries.
Or more precisely, adults filled with Pappasito's mexican food.
(Not the vomit-inducing ride.)
(Nope, only smiles, no vomit.)
[By the way, there was not a single group shot taken, because two of us always had our hands full of kid and the other one couldn't find a reliable person that did not look like a camera thief. Very large people squished into tiny spandex garments do not evoke fuzzy feelings of trust.]
We finally sweated through all our dignity and made a beeline for the most invasive water ride we could find. It was powerfully refreshing to get drenched with gallons of stagnant water.
And nothing short of empowering to realize that nobody even notices if you got scared on the ride and peed your pants...
Just 5 hours, 4 sausages-on-a-stick, 3 Pink Things, and 2 glow-in-the dark headbands later, we were forced to leave when our chaperone blew chow on a Tilt-N-Hurl ride in Gotham City.
As we drove back to the hotel, we reviewed our fun-filled day amid the smells of vomit, fried foods and urine. We unanimously agreed: A Good Time Was Had By All.
We finally sweated through all our dignity and made a beeline for the most invasive water ride we could find. It was powerfully refreshing to get drenched with gallons of stagnant water.
And nothing short of empowering to realize that nobody even notices if you got scared on the ride and peed your pants...
Just 5 hours, 4 sausages-on-a-stick, 3 Pink Things, and 2 glow-in-the dark headbands later, we were forced to leave when our chaperone blew chow on a Tilt-N-Hurl ride in Gotham City.
As we drove back to the hotel, we reviewed our fun-filled day amid the smells of vomit, fried foods and urine. We unanimously agreed: A Good Time Was Had By All.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
DAY TWO
We awoke the next day somewhat recovered and ready for Part Deux of our Great DFW Adventure. Our little gang of five divided into teams of gender as the boys dropped Mandie and I off in front of the obnoxiously pink American Girl Boutique...
We awoke the next day somewhat recovered and ready for Part Deux of our Great DFW Adventure. Our little gang of five divided into teams of gender as the boys dropped Mandie and I off in front of the obnoxiously pink American Girl Boutique...
(Finding my tiny G-girl in this photo is like Finding Waldo.)
I'm not ashamed to admit it. I got almost as excited as my 5-year old Grand-girl when we stepped out of the real world and into the land of doll utopia. We walked through showroom after showroom looking at displays selling everything a doll could ever need or want. From the skin of her plastic torso to the wardrobe of her real-life girl/mommy - here it was. Estrogen on crack.
Maybe it's because I've lived most of my life in a man's world, but when I got past all the PINK --- I couldn't help but be a little in awe of this oh-so-girly store full of everything a doll lover could imagine --- and then some. For example, here is American Girl's answer to what one should do with a doll while answering the call of nature:
Meanwhile, the boys combined their collective testosterone and marched themselves right on over to...the Galleria shopping mall. Okay, in all fairness, they did manage to hang out with some ferociously wild animals...
Packing so much fun into a two day trip was nothing short of exhausting, for 3 year olds and 50+ year olds, alike. I anticipated hearing nothing on the long ride home but the sound of gentle snoring (hopefully not from the driver). Instead, what I heard was "Can we watch Blue's Clues again?".
As we drove through Quanah, I found myself humming "99 bottles of beer" and scavanging in my purse for a Benadryl.
Blue's Clues, aside, I loved every sweaty moment of our Most Excellent Adventure. Traveling with grandchildren is much more fun than traveling with your own children. Nobody has to act their age and everybody gets to have a great time.
Maybe it's because I've lived most of my life in a man's world, but when I got past all the PINK --- I couldn't help but be a little in awe of this oh-so-girly store full of everything a doll lover could imagine --- and then some. For example, here is American Girl's answer to what one should do with a doll while answering the call of nature:
Meanwhile, the boys combined their collective testosterone and marched themselves right on over to...the Galleria shopping mall. Okay, in all fairness, they did manage to hang out with some ferociously wild animals...
Packing so much fun into a two day trip was nothing short of exhausting, for 3 year olds and 50+ year olds, alike. I anticipated hearing nothing on the long ride home but the sound of gentle snoring (hopefully not from the driver). Instead, what I heard was "Can we watch Blue's Clues again?".
As we drove through Quanah, I found myself humming "99 bottles of beer" and scavanging in my purse for a Benadryl.
Blue's Clues, aside, I loved every sweaty moment of our Most Excellent Adventure. Traveling with grandchildren is much more fun than traveling with your own children. Nobody has to act their age and everybody gets to have a great time.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
When we finally pulled into Lucas' driveway, turned off the DVD player and unhooked the harnesses...we all bailed out of that smelly car with hearts and souls stuffed to overflowing with memories.
And that's important.
Cause you never know when you might need one of those memories - or at least a green balloon - to carry you along this roller coaster ride of LIFE.
And that's important.
Cause you never know when you might need one of those memories - or at least a green balloon - to carry you along this roller coaster ride of LIFE.
We don’t stop playing because we grow old;
we grow old because we stop playing.
~ George Bernard Shaw ~
we grow old because we stop playing.
~ George Bernard Shaw ~
Precious precious story and pics. You are much braver (or something...) than I.
ReplyDeleteI was only brave because we had JP...child toter and entertainer extraordinaire. You should borrow him :o)
ReplyDelete