Twelve stinky, sweaty boys will lead us through the 100 degree heat of Valencia today. Three moms, my husband and I are going to Magic Mountain. I wish I had a better attitude about it, but I just can’t locate one.
My son, Daniel was sick yesterday and that turns up my anxiety about going. At dinner, I asked Lucas if he was excited, and he answered, “It’s not like I am Sir Rollercoaster”. He gets motion sickness easily. Upon further discussion, I realized he is going for the souvenir, already planning on buying a particular goofy hat. That’s so Lucas.
When we planned this trip last June, it sounded like a summer-fun adventure with our friends and family. It was my stupid idea, having a free ticket; it motivated me to round up the amusement park troops. Magic Mountain day is here and it looks like I am heading into the scorching fun zone with a stinker attitude. Cotton Candy will be the main carrot dangling from my moist brow with each sweaty step.
Daniel’s feeling crummy. Lucas doesn’t like coasters. I don’t like long lines, the extreme heat, roller coasters or L.A. Gang members and…..why am I gong? My husband is one reason. He loves the thrill of a speeding coaster, zooming upside down, and dropping from extreme elevations. My girlfriends are the other. They would not let me wiggle out of going, believe me, I tried.
I realize I can do one of two things to turn this day into a good memory.
I could instantly change my inner “mojo” on the day. Poof! Presto! Abracadabra! Shazam….a cheery, positive attitude will now follow me throughout the park, as I attempt freakishly crazy rides, and gleefully carry my children’s gear around in the heat.
Or, ditch the group and locate the Beer Garden.