I took two of my grandkids to Mickey D’s Sunday afternoon. We, and by “we” I don’t mean hubby and I…because you know FOOTBALL…I mean “I” had agreed to babysit them for a while so their Mommy could attend a meeting.
Knowing they’re six and four and there’s nothing better than a huge indoor playground I decided to take them to our local Mickey D’s for some ice cream, french fries, soda and playtime with other little hellions like them.
They had platforms:
- Those two little monkeys are my grandkids.
And gigantic tube slides:
Gi-normous structure - with twisty slides. Awesome.
And these connecting tubes that swayed or bounced:
Long crawl-through tubes connecting both sides of the huge slide-crawly structure. Kid heaven.
And the tubes connected both sides of the structure:
Super fast slides on this side, according to my granddaughter.
But every bit of this fun was outclassed by this:
What's under there? Don't ask.
Before there was a yellow cone, there was an impressive pile of french-fry laced vomit. And, every kid in the room had to investigate. One boy simply couldn’t stay away from it and one little girl stepped in it barefoot and proceeded to smear the stuff all over that blue platform to the left. I giggled uncontrollably, but one mom was on the verge of fainting and ran frantically to the manager screaming for a vat of disinfectant, a haz-mat suit for everyone in the room, a biohazard team from FEMA and I’m pretty sure the declaration of a disaster area for the entire restaurant. It was awesome.