This is how I know

...that I am:

a) hydrated

b) finally awake

c) too lazy to clean out the car.

All in a day's work, my friends. All in a day's work.

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We say goodbye to Kiddieland

I didn't realize how sad I am that Kiddieland is closing next week until we pulled into the parking lot and I saw the sign. The same sign that welcomed my brother and me for special birthday visits and summer excursions for years and years when we were kids.

Once upon a time, my brother and I clamored for the small Ferris wheel with cages to keep small children safely inside. We rode the carousel. We cranked away on the push-cars. We rode and rode and rode the roller coaster, even if it was (just a little) scary.

Now we were back at Kiddieland just days away from Lil E's birthday, riding many of the same rides I remembered and some new(ish) ones. The long line was not what I remembered but shelling out a small fortune for tickets and hot dogs in stale buns seemed very much the same.

It was all blue skies and sunshine and squeals and just a fabulous day. And because I am the mommy this time around, I did something my parents rarely agreed to -- I splurged on some deliciously warm and fresh cotton candy as we left the park. 

It saddens me that this place that brimming full of simple, memory-making, child-centered fun will soon vanish into thin air, and that the space (as we've heard) will rise up again as one more Costco in a long stretch of suburbia.

We had our day in the sun and now more than every, you will be missed, Kiddieland.

[Lots of photos after the jump.]

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Just one of the hats he wears

He called to me, loudly. I was standing in my room in a towel, dripping and flipping through every piece of clothing in my closet, rushing around to get myself dressed and the kid dressed and get organized and out the door in the next five to ten.

The "MOMMY! MOMMY!" interrupted all that and I pat-pat-patted down the hall and to the living room. I looked around and didn't see him. There was no boy in sight to match the voice that called again, "MOMMY! MOMMY!"

"Baby, I'm in a hurry!" I called back, peeking around toward his regular hiding places.

"MOMMY! MOMMY!" he called a third time.

"E! Come on --"

But before I could get the sentence out that would fully relay how impatient I was, a flash of gold, followed by a bit of black velvet, followed by wide brown eyes, followed by a huge grin rose up from the end of the couch.

The voice was silent and in its place, a pirate peeked out at me.

A pirate who was very proud of the get-up he put together. A pirate who had finished his waffles and milk and needed me to see he was all ready for preschool.

The irritation and hurriedness evaporated. There was nothing left to do but laugh, kiss his bubbled up cheeks and tell him he looked phenomenal.

We managed to get to school early that day, Lil E wearing fewer accessories than he had been while perched behind the couch. I actually was dressed, which was also different than when I was standing on the other side the couch from me hearty. 

He called, "MOMMY! MOMMY!" one more time as he leaped from the car. This time, he was only brandishing an imaginary sword that pierced my giant purse.  We were there ahead of schedule and I'd escaped the plank-walking. This time.

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