Totally Cheesy (In A Good Way)

Today we went to Chuck E. Cheese with Robyn and the boys. It is almost our two-year anniversary of our first Chuck E. visit, when Jarrah was two.

My theory by now is that there are two schools of parenting. One is the "I'll see you in hell before I darken the threshold of that seething pit of base humanity" school. The other is the "Don't tell anyone, but I sort of could stay here all day refilling my six-ounce soda cup and shooting stuff while ostensibly 'watching' my child" school. Clearly, I am an apprentice of the latter. Which is fine with me, because, what's the big freakin' deal? Pizza, games, animatronics...it's all good.

And it's even better now, because--accompanied by Jared and Joshua--Jarrah was off like a shot before I could say "Do you want another slice?" Robyn and I shouted over the "entertainment" and occasionally dispensed more tokens, but otherwise, our presence was totally unnecessary. I even spotted Jarrah wantonly flinging her arms around the strolling troubadour version of Chuck E.--I'm watching you, young rodent. Don't get handsy.

Which was fine, because I really don't like anyone breaking my concentration when I'm totally getting the bonus score for Pirates of the Caribbean pinball. And when two-year-olds wander in front of my free throws, I have to restrain myself from delicately kicking them to the side. I'm on the clock here! And don't even get me started on the yogi-like meditative state I reach in a high-scoring Skeeball round. Because I will go on.

Jarrah's new love is the "ticket muncher," which for some reason sounds a bit off-color to me, especially when it's actually doing the munching. Back to the focus groups, people. But the three Js were happy to feed 520 (!) tickets into that baby and happier still to spend the receipts on a somewhat un-vast assortment of plastic treasures, including a secret decoder ring, a bracelet, and a lollypop (who ya talkin' to?) for little Miss J. Meanwhile, Robyn and I had spent a blissful couple of hours of coffee talk (pizza talk?) and even shared a turn on the "Fright Coaster" simulator, which was relaxing to my nether regions but freaked out my inner ears.

And Jarrah's impression of CEC as a sort of spa for the preschool soul is unwavering. We went to Target afterward (it's in the same parking lot) and while we were there, she announced she was hungry again and suggested a brilliant solution: going back to CEC for another pizza. Hmmmm.