Jungle Jim's

Today it was generally gray and all full of Utah outside and the mere thought of cooping up my toddler for the entire day was nauseating. So I jumped on the Internet in an attempt to find an indoor activity that would keep the attention of an 18 month old. I did find an aquarium that sounds promising but what with Garrett frequenting Sea World less than a week ago I figured we'd save the 100 pound lobster for another day. We discovered, and settled upon, Jungle Jim's Playland. A review that I read of the establishment compared it to a Chuck E. Cheese on steroids. Given the fact that I'm totally cool with overstimulating my kid with mental 'roids (wait, when one uses the slang term roids is she typically referring to hemroids? Because there was none of that going on. Cuz. Just. Ew.) and adults ride free with a child, and a child under the age of two is only $5.50 for unlimited rides, we thought it would be a fun pre-nap trip.

When we got there I was amused by the interior. It was like stepping back into 1986. Almost as though 1986 puked out the remains of some abandoned amusement park. But, as Garrett has never actually seen 1986, vomited or otherwise, he was in toddler heaven. The only thing he couldn't ride were the bumper cars because he was too short. Too short for bumper cars but tall enough for what you are about to see, go figure.

In case you can't tell, the green blob whizzing by is me and the smallish blonde streak is the boy on his very first roller coaster ride. He absolutely loved it...twice. It's hard to comprehend, simply by watching the video, how fast this thing was actually going. My body was being painfully smashed into the side of the little car and any time I put my arm on the safety bar in front of Garrett to try to hold myself up, he shoved it back onto my own side. Apparently he didn't want his experience diminished by the sight of his mother's arm blocking his face. The second time around he rode with Troy and when the coaster started, uh, coasting, he broke into an enormous smile that practically screamed, "I know this coaster well. We are close, personal friends. Whatever, Dad, I suppose you can ride with me but it's not like I really need you here." On the contrary, whenever the coaster stopped to switch directions (that's right, friends, this bad boy also went backwards) the designated parent had to pull him back up into a sitting position as he had quietly slithered under the protective lap bar being that it was, you know, a foot away from his teeny tiny lap.

Aside from the coaster we did the airplane ride twice, the swings twice which he had to do all by himself because, clearly, Troy and I are taller than the 54 inch height limit. Well, that is to say that, clearly I am taller than the 54 inch height limit. Troy is a Lilliputian so he might have been able to swing right along with the toddler. (For anyone reading this that hasn't met my husband, he's actually 67.5 inches. It's just that he sometimes appears to only be four feet tall.) We rode the carousel twice. We rode the spinning car thingy ride that can only be described as worse than the teacups at Disneyland. Don't get me wrong, I think the teacups are very colorful and I find the music that accompanies them to be chipper and altogether glorious and I think that I used to love them fiercely until one day when I almost lost my Pizza Port lunch. I've been a little off ever since when it comes to spinny rides. But I did not want to lose my mother of the year nomination over something as silly as a little equilibrium, in February no less, so I endured it for my little grin monger. I just didn't look at anything but his very small body seated happily across from me. I zoned in on the golden retriever on his shirt and prayed it would be over soon. Troy and Garrett climbed around in the playground area. We taught the kiddo how to play Skee Ball and whack a...gator (whatever happened to the good ole moles?). When all was said and done, we walked right out of the establishment with no tears. He was tired and before he could cry he spotted his beloved dain dee in the carseat. That's Garrett speak for blankie, in case you couldn't figure that out. He giggled maniacally and reached for it. We're beginning to think this kid is an addict in need of some BlankAnon. Seriously. When he sees that sucker he produces this guttural laugh much like I imagine the sadistic chuckle of a dealer to sound like when he spots a new victim. Oh well, it keeps the tears from flowing so I don't really care if he's a five year old leaving Jungle Jim's with his Dain Dee. It sure beats him kicking me and yelling, "Stranger! This lady is not my mommy!" Not that I actually plan on raising a holy terror but y'all know that being in this fishbowl, the chance that it won't happen is slim. I mean it'll be just my luck, I'm sure, so we're keeping the blankie.

I'll leave you with a picture of my sweet cherub (and my sweet Lilliputian), three and a half years before the kicking incident may or may not occur. It's up to Dain Dee, really.