Ian and Daddy's Night on the Town

Mommy went to hang out with her friends tonight. She certainly ought to do that now and then - in fact, probably a lot more than now and then. Good for the sanity and all.

In her absence, it fell to Daddy to find something to do. Fortunately, Daddy is never short of ideas for things to do. Ian had never visited Frankie's Fun Park before, so I decided that a visit there was in order. I wasn't sure what all a two-year-old might find interesting at Frankie's, but there are lots of blinking lights, electronic sound effects, and general mayhem. In general, Ian has a lot of NPR-approved, high developmental value fun. I figured that Frankie's would help balance his "diet" with some more pasteurized, homogenized, highly processed, iridescent glow-in-the-dark high fructose trans-fat fun.

However, Ian also required dinner, and Frankie's, while it has a full restaurant, tends to offer mostly pasteurized, homogenized, highly processed, iridescent glow-in-the-dark high fructose trans-fat food to accompany its brand of fun.

Therefore, I took Ian to Moe's for a burrito. This is certified as "good enough" by Mommy, and it is on the way to Frankie's. After we ate, Ian wanted a refill on his water. Here he is sitting on the curb outside Moe's showing off his straw-inserting skills:


I then decided to take advantage of North Carolina's sales tax free shopping weekend-mainly because I needed a new pair of pants, a new pair of shorts, and, especially, some socks for Ian. Ian's socks are, to use a North Carolina expression, as rare as hens' teeth in our house, so I got him 8 pair (buy 4 pair, get the next 4-pack at half price. And no sales tax to boot. As Yakov Smirnoff is fond of saying, "What a country!") I told Ian, "We need to buy you some extra socks." He said, "I'm wearing socks right now, Daddy. No need extra socks." He understands the concept of extra; he just doesn't think it necessary to own more than he is wearing. Most people "grow up" and realize that such things as more clothing than one is currently wearing are nice things to have. However, Ian is not necessarily genetically predisposed to ever want another pair of socks (c.f. Uncle Greg), so this one was my call. Here is Ian, amusing himself with the chain rope near the checkout counter:


Then, finally, it was on to Frankie's. It was already a bit after 7pm, and nearing Ian's bedtime, but he had a late nap. I asked him, "Do you want to go home and play with Legos, or go to the park?" He replied, simply, "Park!" His wish, my command.
We pulled into Frankie's and walked into the din of the arcade room. He pointed to the back door, which leads out to the outdoor exhibits. We walked out and turned right, and there were the bumper boats. Ian said, "Ian wants to ride the boat." I looked at the sign, and it said that passengers must be at least 36" tall. Armed with the results of Ian's 2-year physical (36.5" > 36"), I bought a ticket and sallied forth. Here is Ian in his Coast Guard-approved life jacket:


Ian very much enjoyed the ride. He liked pressing the button which activated the water cannon, which I dutifully aimed at the other participants. I also realized that turning the steering column all the way in either direction caused the boat to go into a stationary, high speed, utterly nauseating spin, much to Ian's delight.

After the bumper boats, Ian pointed to the go-cart track and said, "That park there." I carried him over. The carts - gas powered, quite fast, cornering quite sharply - seemed like the kind of thing that he would find scary. I asked, "Are those scary?" He pondered a while, and said, "Scary." Then he thought for a while. He then said, "Ian wants to ride! Ian rides!" The angel over my left shoulder said, "Ian may freak out over this, and then it would be a waste of 6 bucks." The fallen angel over my right shoulder said, "Mommy would definitely freak out over this, and so now is a perfect time." I watched the go-carts whipping around, skidding out, and so forth. Although the sign said that passengers in the two-person go-cart had to be 36" or more (check) and the driver had to be 16 or older with valid ID (sadly, I am now twice that qualified), I decided that the responsible thing to do would be to leave it for another time.

So we're standing in line after having bought a ticket, and Ian is getting more and more excited. He is literally jumping up and down. We have to wait for two cycles because there is a high demand for two-person go-carts: mostly fathers with toddlers or small children with no Mommy in sight. We exchange knowing glances.

Finally, we are near the front of the line. Ian says, "It's Ian's turn!" I am impressed that he understands the concept of standing in line and waiting one's turn. Perhaps he will be a government employee.

Here is a picture of Ian strapped into his seat. To Mommy: the steering wheel he is holding is non-functional (as far as you know).


Then we were off. The first lap, I coasted around corners. Thereafter, full gas. These things corner hard. In a very safe, controlled way. Mommy.

Ian was absolutely beside himself with excitement. He said, "Weeeeeeeeee!" and "Allez, allez!" (which is how we encourage cyclists). The wind whipped through our hair. I laughed and whooped and hollered. This was definitely one of my top Daddy moments. Ton of fun, hint of danger, squeals of delight, squeaks of tires pushed to the very edge in corners. Absolutely the best $6 I've ever spent.

And then it was time to go. Ian asked, "Again?" but didn't press too hard. The light was fading, and we were headed to a 9:15PM bedtime as it was. Which was uneventful, thanks to Daddy's prodigious skillz. All I can think is: when can we go white-water rafting?