Chuck E. Cheese...Worst Pizza in the World.

Jimmy is 3 years old. He's a boy. He pees and poops in his pants.

We're happy with our little family, but life would be so great if he'd just get with the program and start using the potty. He essentially got "kicked out" of his little pre-school session for the 2nd half of the year since he wasn't potty trained enough to go to school in underwear. Actually, he didn't get kicked out, I just didn't re-enroll him. The thought of sending him 2 days a week to school in underwear, was just like asking for them to call me while I was in the middle of shopping at Meijer. Plus, he wasn't even near ready when I had to make that decision in November. I knew he'd eventually use the potty. I knew that we'd get there and that by Summer, I'd have a somewhat potty trained child. I trusted that this would happen.

Yesterday, Jimmy went an entire day dry AND pooped on the potty. OMG! It was such a great day. Now, I'm not going to lie. I had to tell him to use the potty. Although, he told me that he wanted to poop on the potty. And go he did. He was so proud of himself. We kept telling him if he pooped on the potty, that we'd go to Chuck E. Cheese. Well, go we did.

Jimmy had never been there, but he has seen the appropriately placed commercials on PBS. Julia went once when she was 18 months old. You can tell that we love to take out kids there, since they are now 3 and 5. I'd rather go to McDonald's and let the kids play in the play area there and not wash their hands before they ate, than go to Chuck E Cheese. I think I hate other people's hyped up kids. I think I hate paying $25 for a meal that quite honestly is the most disgusting pizza ever. How can Little Ceasar's (which up until yesterday I would have told you was sub-par) make a $5 pizza that is edible, but Chuck E. Cheese can triple their price and get away with passing what was served in that pan off as pizza? Ugh, but I digress...it's not the pizza we're paying for...it's the experience.

Well, let me tell you about our experience. We arrive at 5:45 to a jam packed parking lot. WTH? It's a Wednesday night. I figured there would be a few families looking for something to do with the kiddos after work. Maybe a random mid-week birthday party. Ugh, not so much. Once inside, I see tons of kids. Running around like they are sucking sugar through straws. They are running into people. They are crazed. I see zombie like parents standing in a long line waiting to order pizza and other delectable treats. Our kids are just taking it all in. Heads going back and forth, jaws to the floor....thinking...."This place is awesome!" I am thinking about how I can see if the kids just want to go to McDonald's. No way. Kurt & Mom look for a table. There are no available tables. They finally find one that looks somewhat deserted. Kurt gets some tokens and he and the kids are off. Mom sits down dazed. When I asked her to come with us, she choke-laughed, but she came along anyway. While standing in line, I find out that it is a fundraiser for a local elementary school, which accounts for about 90% of the patrons. The pizza is served. It is as gross as I remember. I don't even know where to start. At least they have good Coke. The kids eat their pizza and I can tell that they are getting tired. But they know they have more tokens...so they go play some more games. Kurt is great at places like this. He sticks with the kids. He doesn't get irritated. Me...not so much. I hate crowds of people and I really don't like bands of youths hyped up on sugar. We use up the remaining tokens and turn in our tickets. The kids can select some random garbage that I can throw out later. The kids are so overwhelmed in general, they can't even really pick a prize. We pick for them, 2 plastic spoons. Which on a normal day would seem like a great idea. The kids fight over these other 2 plastic spoons we have at home, so it would make sense to get 2 more, right? Ugh WRONG. Instantly, Julia is crying. No, Hysterical. Jimmy starts crying, because Julia is crying. Both of them are rubbing germs that the purell didn't kill into their eyes. We're trying to get their coats on, trying to get out the door. If we didn't have the matching numbers stamped on our hands, one would think we truly were stealing some kids. Fortunately, the boy stops crying, because he's not really crying about anything and sees this as an opportunity to look like an angel for once. Screaming girl ensues in the car...all the way home...up the stairs and in the bath. Why all the rage? She wanted a toothpick style sword instead of a spoon. Really? She was tired, but still.

After both kids were finally in bed, I patted myself on the back...able to look back on the experience and say to myself..."He'll have to be going on the potty exclusively for the next 2 years before I step foot in that place again."