L, M, N, O, Pee

There is a beach/theme park not too far from our house. It is a tasty cocktail of equal parts Drunk Red Neck and Sun Burned White Trash with a twist of Scantily Clothed Biker. They try to promote this place as family friendly, which is about as ironic as when Vegas tried to do the same.

Nevertheless, we took Baby Boy there to cross off two vacation plans off in one day: get sand in every body crease and sit in metal rides on a 99-degree day.

They have a log flume there that called to me if for no other reason to splash the layer of grime off my face. Of course I got soaked. I topped off the experience with a zip on the roller coaster to dry my hair.

When I exited the ride, I saw the workers pointing at my former seat and smirking.

"Did I leave something there?" I called.

"I'd say you did," one laughed.

Apparently my post-Log Flume bum left a big, soggy print on the black plastic seats.

Ah, sweet youth. Let them think the old mom peed on the ride. They are just lucky I didn't fulfill my fantasy to buy every kid in their line an extra large fried dough and a blue slushie.

Cowboy UP

In the area around my mother-in-law's house, these are the options for entertaining a toddler: the Final Weekend Sale at Borders, the Mall (which has the word "fair" in it, a slap-in-the-face homage to the fairgrounds that once stood where Sears now does) and...that's about it.

We took Baby Boy to run laps at the mall on Saturday until we came across the carousel. It took some convincing, but finally he decided it was the better option that skipping around Auntie Annie's Pretzels yet again.

After a whole half and hour of circular fun, he had to drag him off. I realized quickly he had soaked through his pull-up and peed all over the prancing white mare with purple flowers in her mane. (Pan to DH, "Are you SURE you don't want the black horse with the sword?").

I guess that gives a new meaning to "ridden hard and put away wet."