We played hookey from work and school one day last week in order to beat the crowds and enjoy some summer fun before school children take over the world. Fine, I also had Groupons to use by the end of June and our weekends were already booked. But mostly it was about quality time with the children, I swear.
We went to Wild Water Kingdom, otherwise known as the pride of Brampton. (It’s not really.) (And the joke only works if you know something about Brampton, Toronto’s keeping-it-real-est suburb, and the, er, vintage charms of Wild Water Kingdom.) I grew up listening to TV and radio ads for Wild Water Kingdom. I dreamt of giant pools and dozens of awesome water slides and sprinklers and goodness knows what else. But I never got to go. So when I saw the chance to buy half-price tickets, I couldn’t help myself. And, much like that time I bought Hamburger Helper at the supermarket just because I could, now I know.
My first order of business was ducking out the night before to pick up a swimsuit from Winners in the fifteen minutes before they closed. I got one that fits at a good price and I would be very pleased if I was maybe 53 years old instead of 33 years old. Eh, whatchagonnado?
Then there was the overwhelmingly difficult task of gathering up all of our suits and towels and water bottles and sunscreen and sun hats and baby snacks and swim diapers and regular diapers and wipes and underwear to change into and omigod, I have still had to print up the Groupons! So, yeah, we forgot the stroller at home. And the baby food. And I seem to have dropped a pair of underwear somewhere between my bedroom and The Abyss water slide.
We left our phones and wallets in the car, opting to carry our bag of towels around with us in order to not have to bother with a locker. So, alas, there is no photographic evidence of our water park exploits. No pictures of us spending a smallish eternity thoroughly covering all five of ourselves with sunscreen without benefit of a stroller or anyplace, really, to put the baby down. And no pictures of Colum slipping and falling and hitting his head within five minutes of entering the actual water park.
That last bit is actually pretty serious. I don’t want to cause a big social media brouhaha because, ultimately, we wound up having a fun day, but I do have significant safety concerns about the park. The splash pad area for younger kids, in particular, is incredibly slippery. There are lots of great sprinklers and little water slides and it looks like it’s going to be a lot of fun until you actually set foot on the wet, painted concrete children are meant to play on. The surface is extremely slippery and hard and I’m not sure that plastering up a bunch of “No Running” and “Caution: Slippery Surface” signs makes it all right. There were a couple patches of that non-slip surface you can find at any parks and rec-operated splash pad and I couldn’t figure out why they didn’t just cover the entire kiddie area with it. One employee admitted that it had been even worse last year and that the employees themselves often slip and fall, so the owner put the non-slip stuff only over the most treacherous zones. Not cool. This is all simply to say I would not recommend taking young children there.
No running! Never mind the giant bucket of water! Slippery!
But whatever. We iced the bump, ate some pizza and carried on. Colum loved the wave pool while Irene clung to Ed’s neck crying out, “I don’t want to die!” Mary took it all in stride. There was the lazy river and the big water slides, only one set of which Colum was big enough to try. Eventually he worked up the nerve and we realized that as long as he sat upright he would go down very, very slowly. Slow is good for a six year old. Even I got into some water slide action, guys.
I started out sitting up like Colum, but when I stalled on the slide I remembered Ed saying you should lie down. So I lay on my back and started to slide again and then, HOLY MARY MOTHER OF FUCKING GOD, I went shooting down, my body ricocheting up one side and then the other, like those luge races in the winter Olympics except instead of ice, water, and instead of a sled, my nearly naked body. Water was spraying up into my face and I could barely breathe or see a thing. It all ended with the ultimate reverse belly flop into the shallow pool at the bottom.
It was awesome. I did it again.
We all wound up having fun despite the persistent threat of multiple head injuries. This is primarily because we were smart enough to go during a weekday in June, thus avoiding the crowds. It’s also because, unbeknownst to me, my husband loves that kind of thing. I’m pretty sure he would have happily logged another six hours of water sliding if the park wasn’t closing. Thank god it was closing.
We were famished on the way home and as long as we were driving through the suburbs, you know? That’s right. Tucker’s Marketplace Buffet. Bring it.
Really, baby Mary? That’s the best you can do? It’s ALL YOU CAN EAT.
I tend to be pretty bare bones when it comes to my kids’ wardrobes. (Especially my son’s because, yeah, girls’ shoes!) In any given year he’ll have a good pair of runners, winter boots and some sort of Croc knock-offs for summer. We buy dress shoes only when they’re absolutely needed. And that’s it.
