Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Amusing Ourselves to Death
Over the weekend, we had a family outing to an amusement park way, way out in the burbs. Possibly past the burbs. We were going to one of those family attractions/amusement parks, but "amusement park" might be an overstatement. Six Flags this ain't. It advertised itself as being the "only X in North America," where "X" is a small category for a reason -- say, "the only theme park in North America devoted entirely to spam," or "the largest corn museum west of the Rockies."
In this case there was a dinosaur theme.
Why, you may ask, why did we troop three children 90 minutes out of town to take them to what I surmise is the most lackluster theme park extant in the province? It's my husband's fault. He's powerfully attached to anything that reminds him of his childhood, and he loves for his children to participate in the same activities. He is aided in this by our powerfully provincial natures. We both live in the same city we grew up in. We can walk to our parents' house (note: not the same parents! That would be a differently themed blog. His children attend the same synagogue that he attended. And they haven't redecorated the sanctuary. It's very seventies.
Anyhow, the kids had a fantastic time. It was exactly their speed. They have no ear for tacky, and so they loved the dance party with Teenagers in Mascot Costumes. Apparently it was a "Justin Bieber Dance Party." Until last month, I did not know who that was either. My mother told me. I am less cool than my mother.
Actually, that's not new. My mother's always been pretty cool.
I took my big camera to the amusement park, in order to better capture the experience for your vicarious amusement. I fit right in with the fathers. My husband and I seem to have reversed the usual pattern as to who actually enjoys the experience, and who compulsively records it with twenty pounds of recording equipment.
Firefly was on my back the whole time, so he didn't get into any pictures. If I ever look back on photos of the event, I'll probably wonder -- wait -- was Firefly born yet then?