From the title of this post, I’m sure you’ve gathered that we recently visited the local water park. For those of you non-Alaskans, the water park is an indoor event here. And because there’s really only one, it’s rather busy.
My husband and I took the three kids to the water park late Saturday afternoon. As you can imagine, the kids were a bit excited over this. Their uncle sent them tickets for Christmas. I’d been holding off on using them since a friend of mine mentioned there had been a roach problem and I don’t dig roaches. At. All. (By the way, no roaches this time.)
My 10-year-old daughter went for the big slides, immediately. She’d overcome her fear of the slide the last time I took her and she was eager to do it again. My six-year-old son was not so convinced. He was insistent I tell him how fast the slides were. The conversation went something like this:
“How fast does the slide go?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, not that fast,” I answered.
“Oh, it goes really fast,” interjected my daughter in that sibling-rivalry way, only meant to induce terror.
“How fast does it go?” he asked again, with a bit of annoyance in his tone.
“What do you mean? Like, miles per hour?” I asked in clarification.
“Yes,” he answered.
Since I had no accurate response to that question, he was not willing to give it a shot.
My two-year old, in the meantime, was fascinated and overjoyed to hang out on the toddler pirate ship. At first, he didn’t want to go up. He was content to play in the wading pool. But, my husband took him to the top of the slide and, after a bit of apprehension, he slid down. He’d probably still be sliding down today, if I let him. He stayed on the slides pretty much the whole time.
At one point, he climbed as far as he could get away from me, to the highest part of the pirate ship he could reach and turned his back, facing only the safety netting. Now, at this point moms and dads, you should recognize the warning signs: something was up. I said his name. No response. I said his name again. Nothing. I said his name a third time and asked what he was doing. He turned around. He was making “the face.” What face? Don’t be coy. You know what face. “The face.” The “I am currently in the process of making you a stinky gift in my diaper” face.
Now let me remind you of our current setting: water park. Pirate ship. Midday. He’s wearing a swimming diaper (thank you Lord!) and swimming trunks. I finally coax him out of the corner and off the pirate ship. We make it to the changing room. I pull down his swim trunks.
If you have a weak stomach… you might want to stop reading. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to read again.
Okay, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.
I pulled down his swim trunks and a gush of discolored water came pouring out onto the cement floor of the family bathroom. I knew this would be a problem. I had another swimming diaper, but the wipes were in the car. I wet some paper towels. I walked back over to him to analyze the situation. I walked back and wet more towels. Very carefully, I began to tear the swimming diaper off him. It was everywhere. Everywhere. And it was very, very wet. I’m a mother of three and I gagged. After much ado, (I’ll save you from the really nasty details) I had him changed, the floor wiped up and my hands washed. Repeatedly.
It is now safe to read again, weak-stomached people.
We walked back out and found my husband and the other two kids. By this time, my six-year-old had started asking a lot of questions about the slide. His sister had taken him up. He chickened out. His step-dad took him up. He chickened out. I asked if he wanted to try again. We went, clamoring up the flights of stairs, inter-tube in hand. We reached the top. We got in, ready to ride. We were off. Despite the fact I’d gone down the ride several times with my daughter, I still found myself screaming as we made the initial plunge. My son, however, was completely silent. We reached the bottom, I worried that he was scared. I was wrong. “THAT. WAS. AWESOME!” He screamed. “Let’s do it again!!!”
After several more slides – the big slide for the big kids and the pirate slide for the toddler – it was time to go. They were none-too-pleased. We convinced them we will take them again sometime soon, which my son interpreted as, “We will take you once a week for the rest of your life.”
Overall, it was an awesome trip. Tons of fun. My apologies to anyone who encountered the poo-pool. Though, it’s not the first time a child has let loose in the water, nor will it be the last.
Tell me your favorite stories of the water park!