To celebrate Father's Day, hubby decided a day trip to the Mont Cascades water park was in order. The Doodle had such a great time there last year, we figured we couldn't go wrong. (Ah, our first mistake.)
We started psyching her up a few days ago, saying how we were going to go to a big park, a park with waterslides, and water fountains and huge pools of water to splash around in, just like big puddles. Even better than the park at home, even better than the park with the bumpy slide. Every morning she asked whether she could go on the slides yet. Two more sleeps. Then one more sleep. Then it was TIME TO GO TO THE PARK!
So we get there, unpack all the gear and get her into her swimsuit. We wander over to the kiddie slides and she excitedly points to the biggest one, scrambling up the staircase to get in line. I sit down in the (ice-cold) water jet and reach out for her. That would be the point where the alarm bells started going off in her head. Wait, we're going in the water? I didn't sign up for this.
She pretty much screamed her head off the entire way down. And in the pool. And under the fountain. She stood indignantly at the water's edge, passionately proclaiming her displeasure at the tops of her lungs, while dangling her arms in cormorant fashion, willing the moisture to evaporate faster from her delicate skin.
"I'M ALL WEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT, MUMMY!!!!" Yes, that's the point. They call it a WATER park for a reason.
At last we gave up, realizing that any continued coercion on our part would be futile, and returned Her Royal Doodleness to drier clothing. Content once again, she amused herself chasing seagulls, looking at ants and dribbling Sno-Cone syrup all down her front.
On the way home, her tiny, angelic voice pipes up from the back:
"I want to go on the water slide?"
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