The Day That Lived in Infamy

Is it, perhaps, a little over the top--maybe even a touch disrespectful--to compare my two hour trip to Chuck E. Cheese to the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor? No. I don't think so. If anything, it's a little UNDERstated. In terms of importance, I can't think of a date that rings with the same kind of consequence. The assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in 1914? The Battle of Hastings in 1066? The day time finally stopped moving backwards allowing wedding planners everywhere to utilize a standard calendar on 0 A.D.? That day roughly 6000 years ago when God pulled a bone out of Adam's chest to create Eve then sent them on their merry, if ultimately disappointing, way? I'm not sure any of these dates hold the same kind of significance in the annals of time as the day I took Gabe to Chuck E. Cheese.

Actually, I'm kidding. It really wasn't all that bad.

We were lucky, actually. Even though it was 5:00 when our party started, the place was still pretty deserted. And even as the early evening wore on, the business never really picked up THAT much. So, the kids were able to roam pretty freely, moving from one ride to the next without having to worry about pushing some other unsuspecting kid out of a seat.

But my god was Gabe a fireball. He ran--and I'm not exaggerating here--pretty much non-stop from the time we got there. We had to actually force him to take the first bite of cake, just so he'd realize that it was something delicious we were trying to get him to eat and not the plain old yucky "dinner" (of pizza, which shouldn't be the kind of punishment he apparently thought it was) he'd refused to sit down long enough to eat three or four times before. Even then, he could only get about half of the cake eaten before he had to get back to running around.

Gabe with the Creepy Van Man. I think he's supposed to be a Veterinarian, thus the dog that's in there with him. However, he's got his arm thrown over the seat, as if waiting to embrace whoever is sitting in the driver's seat, and he has such a lecherous, expecting grin on his face. This was the only ride Gabe would sit in from start to finish--and he rode in it four or five times. Should I be worried?

Because we got one of the "birthday packages," we received about 180 tokens, all told, for the kids to use (which turned out to be impossible in less than two hours--we ended up having about $10 worth of tokens left over at the end). As such, every time Gabe approached a ride or game, we plunked a token in it. He'd sit on the rides just long enough to get it started, then he'd bail out and some other wandering kid would get in to finish the ride.

Gabe having a bit of a meltdown because we wanted him somewhere other than where he happened to be going already. This was a recurring theme. "Hey, Gabe! Let's go eat some cake!" Then he'd say, "No, no, no, no!" and run like hell in the opposite direction. When we caught him, he collapsed to the ground like this. Toddlers are such fun!

By the end, we had a trail of just about every kid under the age of 5 streaming behind us, finishing up the rides and games that Gabe had abandoned because he couldn't sit still long enough to enjoy them.

Then came the presentation of the cake, brought out by the giant Chuck E. mascot. We knew Gabe would love the giant mouse. Being completely devoid of all fear, I'm not the least bit surprised that he loves mascots. He even loved the creepy-assed animatronic singers on the stage. He kept walking in front of them, carefully examining them whenever they got to a speaking or singing part (and, by the way, the music at Chuck has gotten MUCH worse over the years--I was embarrassed for the big mouse and some of the abominations of music they performed, and that's saying something).

Animatronic Chuck E. Cheese. Pretty goddamn creepy, isn't it? The left eye wasn't stuck like that, it was ticcing uncontrollably, like Chuck was having some sort of stroke or something. How this doesn't give every child that comes in there nightmares, I'll never know. Who thought giant robot mice were a good idea in the first place?

This moment was golden--easily one of the most memorable moments of his young life (for us, probably not for him). They made a HUGE deal. The animatronic band sang a song that lasted five or ten minutes. The mascot Chuck and our assigned waiter led a "train" of kids around and around and around the eating area, clapping and singing and waving and stomping. And Gabe PARTICIPATED. We were floored. We can't get him to follow or do anything we ask without multiple attempts and more than a little cajoling. Apparently, we just need to wear a giant mouse costume and he'll gladly do everything we say. He followed Chuck around the eating area three or four times, laughing and clapping and waving. And we got it all on video!

Except the camera ran out of memory before it was over, so I hastily tried to delete a few scrub movies I'd taken earlier.

And I think I accidentally erased what was probably the best video we would have ever gotten of young Gabe. Either that or the camera screwed up because we ran out of memory (because I swear that I didn't erase it--yet, it was gone and how likely was it that the camera screwed up? So, yeah, it was probably my fault.). I think someone might have gotten some still pictures of him on his walk, so we might have that to remember it by.

And we got PLENTY of other slightly less amusing videos of him doing stuff. Libby posted the better stuff on youtube, so I won't repost them here. Also, I'm hoping people will share some of the photos they got on Facebook or something because we didn't get that many stills.

So, all in all, it wasn't as nightmarish as I feared it would be, and Gabe seemed to have a good, if entirely distracted, time. Mission successful, I suppose.