We couldn't stay as long as I might have liked, because we were afraid the hotel pool might close at 9 and I'd promised the kid I'd take her swimming. I'd purchased a hotel room on Priceline ahead of time (we didn't want to put my friends out for two nights instead of the usual one) but had never been to this particular Ramada. When we checked in, the man at the front desk informed us that there was a Quinceanera party taking place in the atrium and that we would be able to enjoy the thumping beats served up by the DJ until midnight. I peeked into the ballroom and was amazed to see the array of formal dresses and the fancy decor. Now, I must tell you that I have never once in my life had a thought anywhere close to "I'm glad I'm not Latino" but after realizing how much such a shindig must have cost, I had that exact thought. I'm relieved to know I won't have to throw a party like that in ten years. Yowza.
As luck would have it, the pool did not close until 10, so I was able to take her Highness swimming. I was hoping to wear her out so that she would sleep well. The plan mostly worked. When we got back to the room, her dad was already snoozing so I gave A a quick shower and popped her into bed. The hotel boasted Sleep Number beds and let me say, the mystique wore off pretty quickly. As near as we could tell, the Sleep Number bed is essentially an air mattress and when you adjust the hand-held unit, air is either being pumped in or released. Big whoop.We never could figure out what number was most comfortable, but A fell asleep eventually.
Although the hotel's website very clearly advertised a free continental breakfast, this turned out to be an elaborate practical joke. (Free = $5.95 per person) I ran out and grabbed a quick breakfast for the three of us (which we ate in our room), and then we headed to the fair. We made it to the fair by 9:30 or so. We've learned to get there early before certain attractions get too crowded. I had two extra tickets so I gave them to a family that was just about to purchase tickets at the window. Good Karma and all that.
We had a great time at the fair, despite the searing heat. We shared an order of deep-fried Oreos. Those little delicacies really should be illegal - they feel so, so wrong and yet . . . right. We visited a vendor expo, at which we enjoyed a full-on meltdown from our daughter after we refused to drop $25 on a *%$#ing Pillow Pet. It's a stuffed animal, fer cryin' out loud! We keep telling her, "All of your stuffed animals are Pillow Pets!" Who comes up with these things? I keep picturing some board room full of toy company execs tossing ideas around when finally one guy stands up and says, "I think I've got something that will piss parents off like I don't know what. It's a run-of-the-mill stuffed toy, see, but then I put a two-cent piece of velcro on it and voila!"
Anyway, we just keep telling her, "Maybe for your birthday next year" and then keep our fingers crossed she'll forget over the next nine months. That is not to say we got off easy at the fair. We bought her two small plush kitties (buy one, get one free), took her through a dinosaur exhibit, bought her an overpriced slushie, and waited patiently while she went down a pig-shaped slide several times.
Later that evening, we met some friends at Buca di Beppo and enjoyed a fabulous dinner. The chianti and sangria flowed freely. See, if the kid were smart, she'd wait until moments like those to hit us up for the Pillow Pet.
|Oh Oreo, I love you so|