The great adventure!

Grandma had taken Crash Boy for a couple days, so when I woke up Monday morning, I had every intention to relax.

But I had a feeling that I should do something. So we went to Little Monkey Bizness, a fun indoor playground.

And whoa, there’s Jodi! She was with her group of three (THREE is a lot of kids), and it was something I vaguely expected, somewhere in the back of my mind, since she was the first person to introduce me to the place.

I told her about my idea of an adventure, and we started adding onto it. Sure would be cool to just fly somewhere, but then I’d have to worry about car seats and stuff. Her parents went on a train ride once. Trains sure sound like a good way to get out of my little bubble without being too expensive. But what about staying overnight? Airbnb is cheap...

And so, an hour later, I found myself in the car, asking Jessi if it’d be cool if we spent the night somewhere, and looking up the cheapest places I could find on Airbnb. Me and my two year-old boy. With only the things I had packed for a short trip to the playplace. Three undies, three diapers, and two changes of clothes. (Thank goodness I overpack, right?)

What worked for me was letting me get ahead of myself, because in the end, I know I can count on me to ground ideas in reality, while still keeping that spirit of adventure.

But if we were going to successfully sleep anywhere, DanPar needed a good nap. So instead of taking the train somewhere, I hopped in the car, and drove to Golden, where I’d been searching for places to stay.

At this point, I had Golden on my mind only because I was thinking of taking the west-bound lightrail out there. I’d requested for a place to stay around Golden, but I wasn’t at all sure where, and I wasn’t even sure if they’d say yes.

But I punched in Woody’s Pizza, because I knew that was in the center of Golden, and hey, what better place to be with a young kid?

On the way there, I saw a sign that said “Railroad Museum”, pointing off of the highway. Obviously, I had no choice. I turned off, got a little lost, and Daniel started to wake up as we turned into a small railyard that I hoped was the museum.

After spending a good twenty minutes in the gift shop, we finally bought our tickets and went inside. Daniel loved pointing at trains, and thank goodness I have no interest in reading about them, because he wouldn’t have allowed me to stop for a moment! I set up some fun photos, and we played with a toy trainset in the basement of the museum, before we decided it was time to go.

I’d promised the boy trains back when I was dreaming a little too much, and by golly, he got trains!

But on the way out, he saw a little cardboard stand filled with fancy lollipops. They were priced as you would imagine a gift shop would price candy, at 2$. I was able to pry him away by promising him lollipops later. After all, I’d have to stop by a grocery store somewhere, right? Maybe he’d forget? And above all, I didn’t want him getting the idea that he could grab things on a whim and I’d buy them for him.

This would come back to haunt me...

We went to Woody’s Pizza, in beautiful rustic downtown Golden, and I ate probably a whole pizza pie worth of pizza. It was a buffet, so it was the right thing to do. The thrifty thing to do. The delicious thing to do. We were seated right by the pizzas as they came out, so Daniel would peek over the booth when I went to get more, and he’d shout, “That one! That one, Dad!” The chefs laughed, and it’s true, my boy is adorable.

I tried to cut his pizza into a smaller pizza, and as a result, he was done with pizza. He ate the pepperoni I gave him, though, and when we discovered there was a salad bar, too, (I’d already eaten more pizza than was reasonable by this point,) he got really excited. He ate beans, peas, croutons, and more than anything, sweet mandarin oranges.

We left the table a few times to visit the salad bar, go potty, all that, and each time, the table was a little more bussed than we’d expected. My pizza plate disappeared (probably for the best), and then our silverware, and apparently at one point they’d assumed we left without paying. It was fine. We paid, and ended up staying a little after that, and when we left, they apologized and gave us both stickers.

Once we piled in the car, Daniel proceeded to tear his sticker to shreds. I still have mine as a memento. I’ll stick it on something someday.

Now then, we’d heard back from the Airbnb guy, and once I paid, I got his address. I really really didn’t look at the locations when I said “around Golden”, because this dude was in Westminster, at least half an hour away from us!

Well, no problem. I set the destination to a Dollar Tree by his place, and we got going! At the store, we bought the things I didn’t have. Two pints of milk, a toothbrush and toothpaste for kids (yup, forgot to brush his teeth that night, but I got close!), and, of course, lollipops. I had two choices. I could buy one big lollipop, or a cluster of eight Tootsie pops. I chose the cluster of eight, but I’m not sure if I chose wisely.

Daniel wanted to play with the cluster, which was packed nicely, and I thought, sure. Ten minutes later, stopping outside the guy’s house we’d be staying at, he’d opened up three of them and threw two of the sticky pops on the floor of the car. The third one wasn’t in his hand, either. It was by his feet.

But he was happy! So hey, whatever!

I met the Airbnb guy, and he showed me around the basement room I’d have. He lent me a phone charger, and when I looked at everything I’d brought in, I realized I only had one diaper bag, and a sack from Dollar Tree, and “Oh, haha, we’re just on an impromptu adventure, aren’t we, Daniel?” If I were him, I’d certainly say it looked like I was on the run with my kid after a custody battle turned sour.

But adventures are weird! This one certainly was.

The next stop was a local library, a mile away as the crow flew. I figured I’d grab some nice books to read him at bedtime (yup, forgot to read him bedtime stories that night, but I got close!), and so we packed up the wagon and went.

Well, we’d barely left the front yard before I got lost, and then there was a playful dog by a park, and then Daniel ran into a school playground with grade schoolers. One of them pointed at him and shouted, “A redhead! Eek!” Daniel laughed, grabbed his hair and said, “I have RED hair!” What a good kid.

There was a cross between a hammock and a swing at the park. I need one!

We eventually made it to the library, but by this time it was already getting a little dark. So I tried to rush him through the toys. That failed. I ended up doing a dinosaur puzzle, and he played with trains, and then we hung out with another father-son duo.

But I’m glad I did. I asked the other dad what there was to do in Westminster, and he scratched his head, mentioning one park or another. Then, almost off-handedly, “There’s the Butterfly Pavilion, too.”

Whoa! YES. It was an amazing idea, and so I set my mind, that first thing in the morning, after breakfast, that’s exactly what we’d do.

But here I was making plans after breakfast, when we didn’t even have a plan for dinner.

So we ran back in the wagon, hopped in the car, dashed out to Safeway, bought some TV dinners, some pears, a bag of pretzels, and some bananas, and came back.

That’s when we went into the basement and met another guy there.

Apparently, the place we’d booked had another permanent resident right next door. For an instant I thought our disappearance without any luggage led the homeowner to think we left, and he’d booked another guy.

Instead, we found ourselves sharing space with someone we had no warning would be there. I was a little upset about the whole thing, and worried that if DanPar kicked up a fuss, the other guy would have a hard time sleeping, but I couldn’t help myself, and still gave him a great review afterwards, despite a stranger being in the areas he told us were ours.

We ate our TV dinners and watched Bolt on a projector, while I made the bed (also the bed wasn’t made). When dinner was done, it was well past his bedtime, so I tried to put him to bed. He threw the tantrum I had dreaded, where he was crying because he wanted his bed, he wanted his blankets, and he didn’t want to sleep here, and I started to regret everything. I should’ve stopped by home to get his Lion and Mickey toys, if not his entire bedspread. Maybe if we drove home, he’d be okay? I only spent 45 bucks for this basement, anyways...

But the blankets were still wet, too. (Still gave him a great review. I’m a wimp.) So I pretended to be like, “Ohhhhhhhh kay, you’re right, let’s watch a little bit more of Bolt and then we’ll try again.” I stuffed the blankets into the dryer, and set it for another forty minutes.

Now, I enjoyed Bolt. It’s a fun movie with cartoon animals and lovable characters, so I really didn’t mind staying up a bit longer. (We still need to finish that, or at least I need to. Still hoping he’ll forget things.) After a long day of spontaneity with a toddler, I relaxed my parenting standards.

Once the blankets were dry, he went in and laid down with ABSOLUTELY NO FUSS. He went potty, he got changed, he got his milk and a pretzel, and he drifted off.

At this point, I realized I’d forgotten to take into account where I’d be sleeping. I had a pillow and a jacket and a couch, so that was that. I was really hoping the other guy (who, again, I was never led to expect) wouldn’t mind me sleeping on it in the morning, or in the very least, wouldn’t kidnap both of us and tie us to railroad tracks in the night.

I had no idea who this guy was. The homeowner had never mentioned him, so the only reason I had to trust him was that he seemed familiar with what buttons stuck on the remote control.

So a few hours later, I heard, I swear, Daniel croak, “Help me...”

I spring off of the couch and dash to the door. He’s fine. Completely fine, breathing all right, and it’s warm in his room, as opposed to in the basement living room.

I fretted for a few minutes, but that didn’t stop me from going back to sleep.

Eventually, around 5:30, I woke up, but I took my time getting up. After all, I only had one kid to deal with. I checked to make sure he was still there, just to make sure I even had that one. He was happily sleeping.

Around 6:30, I heard him crying, and I figured it was time to get the morning going, but all he needed was another cup of milk and another pretzel, and he was back down for another hour and a half.

At 8 am, he opened the door hesitantly, and then, seeing me, gave a big smile and said, “I’m poopy!”

We took care of that, and I got things together while watching a little bit more of Bolt, and we left to Village Inn.

I offered him everything on the kid’s menu, but he really wasn’t interested. So we did their pick-4-for-8-dollars, and got half a waffle, a biscuit and gravy, a couple slices of bacon, and a cup of fruit. If you look at each one of those thinking, “Two dollars each,” you’d probably drive yourself crazy. But as a whole meal, which fed us both very well, with a cup of coffee as well, it was only ten bucks.

I did end up tipping 5 bucks, though, because DanPar had been walking around to greet all the other patrons, by walking along the booth seating.

And as we left, Daniel saw them. A whole jar full of lollipops. He started telling me he wanted one, and I thought, No problemo, I’ll give him one when we get to the car. But then the owner showed up.

“No thanks, we don’t need any,” I told the owner.

“It’s all right. Come on, take a couple!” The darn guy was trying to be nice. He didn’t understand the no-really-don’t-do-it parenting tone.

So of course, Daniel approached and took two. Fine. Fine. They were the Dum-Dums, so they were small. And then…

“Did you want some more?” THIS OWNER. WHAT.

“No, really, that’s okay.”

“It’s all right! Here they are!” WHAT THE HECK DUDE.

Look at the cupholder with the four lollipops. He is about to open all of them.

So Daniel went out to the car, death grip on four stinking Dum-Dums that I didn’t want him to have, and by the time we got to the Butterfly Pavilion, DanPar had opened them all, licked them all, thrown them all, and one was stuck on his leg.

See the darned Dum-Dum?

Yup.

We had a security guard take our picture outside the invertebrate zoo once I’d cleaned DanPar off. And then, after spending a good twenty minutes in the gift shop, (they really put some fun toys in gift shops,) we finally bought our tickets and went inside.

I held a tarantula and got a sticker! Daniel wasn’t old enough to do it, but he really didn’t want to, anyways. We sat for a storytime, before I realized that it was not interactive, not interesting, and that there was so much more fun stuff to do! So he pet a starfish, gasped at a huuuuuge rhino beetle, looked at bees and ants, and we walked through the actual butterfly part, two sets of doors leading to an indoor jungle in the middle of Colorado.

I love green screens.

Before we left, I asked the front desk if there was anything around that a kid might enjoy. They pointed me to an arcade, Fat Cats, where we went next!

It was an interesting stop. When we entered, we had no idea where to go. Well, Daniel knew where to go. He sat on a driving arcade machine, and I pretended like he was playing as it went through the demo. I did the same with a Space Invaders game, and a helicopter game. Still no idea where to go. But there was a bowling alley attached, so we went there! But even though I could see a front desk there, there was no music, there was nothing fun about it, and the only thing that told you it was a bowling alley other than the lanes was that permeating cigar smoke smell.

So, we left! We spent half an hour sitting on arcade games for zero dollars, even though I made an earnest effort to try and be a customer.

A theater nearby wasn’t playing anything good, so I asked Daniel what he wanted to do. He told me he wanted to go back to Little Monkey Bizness, the place where this whole adventure began.

It seemed a fitting end, and he got a good nap in as we crossed back to our side of town, but first, we stopped by McDonald’s, also his choice. Of all the restaurants we could’ve gone to, McDonald’s. But hey, they had coffee, so I couldn’t complain!

Clink!

After that, we went to Little Monkey Bizness, and he ran around with other kids while I talked to the other parents. (It really is my nature to say I talked to the other moms.) When we left to go back home, we made it at the same time as Jessi. Daniel was happy to regale his mom with all that we did, and like then, just like now, trying to retell the whole adventure, it’s incredible simply how much we did.

I’m trying to exactly pin down why I did it. It was fun, but there’s no doubt I would’ve preferred to relax at home for my time without the kids. Daniel will probably forget about the whole thing, even with the pictures and videos I took. But I’m hoping he gets something more than just the memories. I’m hoping he learns to be brave and outgoing. I’m hoping I proved to myself that I’ve got the guts to go outside my comfort zone. I’m hoping that, years down the line, I remember the time when I could’ve sat on my butt for a couple peaceful days, but chose to go on an adventure with my son instead.

The first taste of autumn

It wasn’t anything special. I always find myself eating dinner for breakfast. Chili, pasta, quesadillas, roast chicken, they were all more common than yogurt and cereal. Sometimes I eat eggs for breakfast, but I’m just as likely to have them for lunch, as well. It’s true, I drink coffee at breakfast, but I drink coffee consistently throughout the day, until dinner.

It was leftover pot roast with mashed potatoes and a wine gravy, and while that sounds fancy, it was actually Frankensteined from several different meals; the first time these pieces had met was after being lazily scooped onto my plate, seconds before being put in the microwave.

But around the table, the three of us sat. And it was fall. It had been summer for so long. But now there was a nip in the air that made hot coffee feel right. There was a smell of leaves outside that made the gravy fit perfectly.

Even Daniel’s cold set the scene of autumn. A cold during the summer is something to be sad about. A cold during the first chill of fall is almost obligatory. The day before was spent in blankets on the ground, sleeping as the winds blew.

The apple juice in his cup became cider. The leftovers on my plate became a small feast. The watermelon on the counter stuck out for the first time in months. The cinnamon roll candle I’d bought weeks before from the closing store by our house had always smelled good, but for the first time, it smelled right.

The wind blew outside, the sun took its time to rise, and everything I’d been eating finally fell into place as the first taste of autumn.