We have season passes to World's of Fun. This is the second time we have bought them while I was pregnant and unable to ride anything. Since the twins were almost 5 weeks old I had the brillant idea to go on the weekend that my husband had to work. I enlisted the help of our 17 year old neighbor because if my son was his normal self I was going to need an extra set of hands. With every outing I learn more ways to travel with the crew, and they all had shoes for sure this time.
The park has a huge halloween crowd for Friday and Saturday nights. The place is like a giant scary haunted playground for people who enjoy that type of thing. I am a sane individual that finds that sort of thing unappealing. However, the park does want to continue getting the family guests to visit and they have come up with "Scare free Sundays" so you can enjoy Camp Snoopy without the walking zombies. Great idea. In theory.
Since I never seem to find outings close to home, we once again take a rather lengthy trip to our destination of Snoopy fun. My daughter is over the moon excited, almost shrieking in the car as we approach the parking lot. The logistics for the easiest way to take 4 kids through the theme park were a bit difficult, almost like an algebraric equation. I decided on single stroller for the toddler, double infant stroller for the twins and the oldest could walk fine on her own. Granted, we were a sight. To wait for us to pass was like watching a parade, and people cannot help but to comment on how full my hands are, or whisper about the "teen mom" which my friend took in stride.
We arrive at the entrance to the park and the kids ride the first ride of the day, the carousel. I am oblivious at this point to the decorations and scary music pumping through the loud speakers. As are the kids. We move on, starting the walk to snoopy and
my daughter starts to shield her eyes and grabs my hand. It is a bit tough to push the double stroller and hold her hand, but no big deal, we push onward. We are almost to Camp Snoopy when I see that she is sobbing and walking with her eyes squeezed shut. Not a good sign. Again, a decision must be made. Do we scrap the trip? Not this mom. I halfway pick her up and the six of us sprint towards the safety of the kids area.
Winded, and a bit flustered I foolishly think we are in the clear. One look at my daughter proves otherwise. I attempt to reason with her. No dice. I try the toughen up approach. No luck. I shamelessly praise my toddler who is such a brave kid that he is enjoying his time and not scared a bit. Sobs. Now I have hurt her feelings and insulted her courage. Logic wins out. If we leave to go home we have to walk back through the scary dead people and the skeletons, so why not just ride some rides and have some fun?
Fun times ended shortly thereafter with my son's massive meltdown, a clear indication of a needed naptime. With a brief pep talk we begin the trip back through the dead guys towards the exit. My daughter is behind me, using my sweatshirt as a blindfold and is stepping on my heels as we shuffle our way out. It is a slow, heart wrenching walk. She is screaming and crying and I cannot make her calm down. We finally reach the entrance and I am furious. I am mad at myself for scarring my daughter, I am mad at the park for false advertisement, and finally, I am mad at my husband who I blame for all bad things.
Safe in the car, we strike a deal to not return again past September. We head out again with the promise of ice cream and the guarantee she will be sleeping in my bed until further notice.
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