S is for softie -- that's what you can call me

I've never been especially fond of theme parks. They always sound like terrific fun in theory, of course, but the reality of crowds and long waits for short lived thrills and overpriced food and lines for public bathrooms (ESPECIALLY those lines for bathrooms) never lives up to the hype. I'm simply not a fan, as a friend once put it, of all that humanity in one place. So it was with some trepidation that we set out yesterday for Sesame Place. We were pretty sure it was going to be one of those experiences better imagined than lived. But Julia had been counting down the days to this day trip all summer, and Evan, who can talk about nothing else but his beloved Cookie Monster these days, has been equally enthusiastic (though somewhat less clear what he was so excited about). The weather, our last shining hope for a trip postponement, was beautiful and we were out of excuses. So off we went, cheerfully shepherding the children into the car while privately expecting the day from hell.

I guess when you expect the worst, anything more than total disaster is an improvement. I was pleasantly surprised by what we managed to pack into a day, and by how well the kids held up through all of it. We hardly waited to do anything and the crowds weren't too bad. Yes, lunch was overpriced, but the bathroom lines were short and the two balanced each other out. All in all, I was feeling like it had been a decent trip; the best one could expect from a day at a theme park, at any rate. As we headed home, I asked Julia for her impression of the day. Her whole face lit up as she considered the question. "I knew it would be great, but I had no idea it would be THAT great," she gushed. And just like that, I became a fan of theme parks.