Henry, Chooch and I are members of DAFE – a club for Darkride and Funhouse Enthusiasts (a/k/a “awesome people”). Our friends the Handas are also members and they just told me about an upcoming event in April at Knoebels Amusement Park, which is on the other side of the state but is something that I feel is worth driving for.
I frantically filled Henry in. Henry is pretty quick to poopoo any plan or idea of mine that requires him to not only drive a great distance, but also spend money on a hotel room, at which time I am sure to turn into full-blown Princess & the Pea mode. (I still don’t know how we moved past the Great Accommodation Fuckarows of 2002 in Buffalo, 2004 in San Bernadino, 2006 in Virginia, or 2008 in Columbus.)
Henry immediately acted noncommittal.
“But it’s two days after Chooch’s birthday!” I cried. “That would be like the coolest birthday present!”
“Yeah, but are you sure this is something for HIM and not YOU?” Henry questioned.
“Why can’t it just be for both of us?” I continued in my outraged cry-voice. “I gave birth to him so we should be celebrating me, as well!”
Henry stopped what he was doing (washing the dishes, because he’s my Hazel, whaddup), sighed and said, “But don’t we celebrate you everyday?”
“I already told Chooch we’re going,” I said smugly, so if Henry says no, then he’s the Asshole Father who stole fun away from his child(ren).