Max loves Chuckie Cheese’s. We banned our family from going there for many years for fear of the germs of the unwashed children and the overall yucky-ness of mass entertainment. I also had flashbacks from a birthday party there years ago when I started having hot flashes while stuck inside the tube chasing after a barely crawling Max.
I am also slightly put off by the odd placement of the apostrophe in the name of this dining establishment. So much so that I feel I cannot go there in good conscience. However, for Max’s birthday he really wanted to go. Hun and I brought him and had the best time ever. There is something about the thrill of a tickets spitting out at me that brings out my competitive side. Mix in a good game of skee-ball and a few rounds of air hockey and I am really in trailer-park heaven.
Good news! There is a Chuckie Cheese less than a mile from our hotel here in Michigan! We went once last week with great success (168 tickets!) so we returned again this Saturday night. Unfortunately, this time it was reminicient of a bad second date following the romantic first date. It was over-crowded and hotter than hell. The best part was when Chuckie came dancing out of wherever he hides until :30 past each hour. He was leading a line of eager kids pawing at him for more tickets when he tripped over Max’s walker. You can’t blame him for not being able to see inside that giant rat head he wears, but man, was Chuckie pissed! He turned around and glared at us and I felt a rat snarl coming from inside his furry head. He whipped around so fast his whiskers rattled and then he growled at us. I could feel the dirty look emanating from deep inside his rat soul even though I couldn’t see his human face! He could have at least asked if Max was ok… but no000, all he cared about was his rat-image and the future of his career on Broadway. Oh well, now I don’t even feel guilty about figuring out how to cheat him out of tickets in the Bucket-toss!