After yesterday’s episode of bank drama, I needed a release. The husband and the baby and I had had plans to go to Kennywood for a little bit. Originally, I was going to leave work a little early so we could get some decent hours in, but since I had to spend nearly two hours at the bank, that wouldn’t work.
So they picked me up, we debated whether or not it was worth it since it was nearly 5:30 at that point, had an argument, and I cried again, all in the space of about five minutes. Then the husband got all alpha male and declared, “FUCK IT, WE’RE GOING,” and I replied, “OH YAY I CAN’T WAIT TO SPEND TIME WITH MY ‘LOVELY’ FAMILY! CAN WE SCREAM AT EACH OTHER THE WHOLE WAY THERE?”
We all eventually settled down and when we got there, the excitement over the fact that it was the baby’s first time there took over. As far as he knows, it’s the greatest place on Earth. And really, I’m not inclined to disagree. Summer really isn’t summer if it doesn’t include a trip to Kennywood.
The baby is obviously still pretty little, so our four-hour trip was from a small person’s perspective. We didn’t ride the Thunderbolt or the Phantom’s Revenge, etc. But we did take him on the Pirate Ship, which I think he found both thrilling and terrifying. I looked at him when the ride hit top speed and thought, “Man, it would really suck to find out right now that he barfs on thrill rides.” But he held it together, even if he wasn’t clamoring to ride again.
We did get to take him on the Jack Rabbit a few times, because everyone should experience the feeling of “Oh my god, I could actually die while on this rickety, wooden thing from 1921.”
It’s too bad it was such a short visit, but I found that some fries, some ice cream, and screaming my lungs out helped me get over my crappy day. And seeing the baby experience such an integral part of childhood was just…awesome.