What in the world?" "Seriously?" "Gross!" "Disgusting!" Ewww, don't touch that..."
Now say all of those words/statements 5 times fast while spinning in a circle and that my friends is what the kiddy land of the Cajun Festival at James Island County Park felt like. Parental Schizophrenia…no thanks!
After perusing the food area of the event, my boyfriend and I decided to wander into the back corner of the vevnue that housed carnival rides and children’s games to people watch for a bit. Wow. It only took 2 seconds to realize why this area was set WAY far away from every other component of the festivities. That place was like walking into Jamie Fox’s head during the movie The Soloist.
Take 150 kids, put them in one area with spinning rides after they’ve just chugged a coke, eaten cotton candy, etc… As Rob and I stood in the “safe” spot we found between the giant slide and the blow-up obstacle course, I watched in amazement. Grown adults chased their kids around like they were trying to catch the greased pig at a county fair. Kids bobbed and weaved in every direction. Take one small step and you just might crush someone or better yet, have one of them slam into your legs with sticky, cotton candy faces and muddy hands. From every direction came parental chatter, commands, defeat, and sometimes surrender. “Say excuse me, Tommy. SAY EXCUSE ME!!!” was heard non-stop as kids pushed their way from ride to ride. My final straw was watching little brown shirt dude repeatedly shove his finger in his nose (the rest I will leave up to the imagination) while his mom protested loudly over and over again. Finally she gave up and I started dry heaving. I couldn't do it anymore. Too. Much. Comotion. And way too many boogers in a small area. Once the gagging began we decided to head back to the promise land where music, fried food, and shirtless Cajuns calmed my nerves.
Don’t get me wrong, I love kids. Love 'em! I still love to babysit at 31 years old. But 150 muddy children pushing, shoving, and picking at one time and in every direction. There’s just not enough Xanax for that. To all my parent-friends out there…You rock. You’re seriously my heroes. And I raise my glass to you from about 100 yards away from the kiddy land next time!