Splash ‘n Cry, I Mean, Play.

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Yesterday, in a moment of temporary insanity, I decided it would be a good idea to take The Monkey to the local(ish) Splash n Play.  I figured we’d get there and he’d love it.  Well, not so.  The place was jammed with an elementary school/summer camp field trip.  The kids were running around like mental asylum escapees and, as usual, didn’t really watch out for younger kids and toddlers.  That was my first warning that I should just turn around and go home.  I had driven all that way though so I had to at least try.

I managed to get him changed into a swim diaper and his swimming trunks.  Putting the swim top on him is hell because the neck opening is tiny.  He fights it vehemently.  I have to buy a better one.  Anyhow, once I finally got him ready, I let him loose.  He stood right next to me and didn’t take a single step.  I had to guide him around, getting him sorta acclimatized to the environment.  He ended up playing by this fire hydrant the entire time.  By playing, of course, I mean putting his feet under the stream and trying to drink from the spray.  This is the kid who hates showers, why did I think he’d like a Splash n Play?

It didn’t take long from him to grow tired of that and, in typical Monkey fashion, only wanted to play with the stroller.  He managed to climb into the stroller with soaking wet shorts.  I pulled him down and then the first tantrum started.  I tried to distract him with other things but no dice.  That was enough for me so I started getting him ready to go home.  Second tantrum.  After what felt like a wrestling match, I manged to get him out of the wet clothes and into dry ones, then put him in the stroller.  Third tantrum.  He’s in a buckle phase and does not want to be strapped into anything because he wants to click the buckles closed instead.  He does snap them closed but cannot open them again, which leads to yet more tantrums.

While all this was going down, I was sweating buckets.  It was hot and the humidity of the Splash n Play was almost unbearable.  I’m glad I  had enough sense not to wear my compression garment because I probably would have passed out.

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