Amusement

The whole camp headed out to Hershey Park on Wednesday of last week.  Yes, it’s taken me since then to recover.   

You try schlepping 6 kids around a massive theme park in 95 degree heat with a three hour bus ride on either end.  No, really---try it!  Memories are made of this!  For example:

Shani decided (about 10 minutes into said bus ride) that our driver’s name was Amy.  This was baffling to us all, as our driver’s name was actually Jose’.   Regardless of our confusion, she wailed inconsolably at odd intervals for “Amy” to talk to her throughout the trip.

When Shani’s wails lapsed, Chevi seized the opportunity to serenade her fellow travelers with her rendition of Ninety-Four Bottles of Beer on the Wall. At 5, she’s not yet mastered the subtleties of counting backward, so we were treated to an endless, ne’er-diminishing refrain. 

Naturally, someone had to get lost.  Chevi stepped up to the plate early in the day, so at least I was spared the dreading of it all day long.  I was in the process of giving her vital stats to the peach-haired attendant at the Lost Kids Corral when Esti called on a friend’s cell phone to let me know that her wayward sibling had been retrieved.   The Chevster’s  reaction to the scolding I provided upon her return?  “I can’t believe you would leave your own daughter, Mommy!”

We decided to cool off by standing in the wake of the log flume, which was infinitely more expedient---and entertaining---than actually standing in line for the log flume.  As we waited for our periodic drenchings, I fed the kids some smuggled-in snacks, Shani rocked out to the reggae on the PA system, harassed unsuspecting mothers of stroller-aged babies, and stripped off various items of her soggy clothing.

After The Hershey Experience, I’ve decided to put Shani in leg-irons in the event that I ever venture out of my living room again.  She alternately lagged and raced through the park, casting withering glances at her stroller, her mother, and the cult following that trailed her as we ambled from restroom, to ride, to restroom again.  

By the time we’d made it back for supper, all of the kids had officially melted down, and the Mommy was hot on their heels.  We spent the final half-hour of our stay popping arnica and watching the crowds of similarly exhausted tourists mill by.  

The kids curled up and conked out on the bus ride home.   (Boy, was ‘Amy’ glad!)