My Summer Vacation, Part 3:

Day 5:


It’s hot, too hot, about 80 degrees by 8 a.m. While the baby practices dismounts off the furniture under the watchful eye of his father and grandparents, I convince Jak-El to go to the beach for an early morning treasure hunt.

It’s beautiful at the beach. The place is deserted except for some stray joggers and folks walking their dogs. We park ourselves next to a huge hole someone dug the day before and spend the morning searching for shells, burying each other in the sand and making sand castles.

At some point, Jak-El insists on taking the “Pirates of the Caribbean” treasure chest and key he acquired the day before at McDonald’s out of the beach bag, and promptly loses the key. I commence a search for the key, imploring him to try and find it, since I’m sure he’ll be upset later that it’s gone. He doesn’t have any idea and doesn’t seem to care. “Look for the key, please,” I beg. He wants to just dig and ignores me.

After I ask him to look for the key for about the twelfth time, he looks at me, rolls his eyes and says with a weary ‘you’re an idiot mom’ voice, “It’s on a mission.”


This phrase is my explanation for what happens to action figures or other toys when the disappear under the couch or whatever for days and he’s upset. Now the little f*&ker is using it on me. I give up. Over a week later, he hasn’t asked for the key once.

We leave the beach and go to a local coffee shop for a late breakfast. Back at the house, everyone is at a loss for what to do. It’s too hot to even move. We decide to eat lunch out at the Maine Diner (the place advertised constantly on Phantom Gourmet, for you New England locals) to sit in air conditioning for a while.

We’re seated at our booth, and Jak-El immediately starts having a fit, about what I’m not even sure. Dan-El behaves but wants to people watch more than eat. Jak-El screams some more, and wants to sit in my lap while I try to feed Dan-El. The restaurant is crowded and cramped. I’m about ready to snap.

“Let me feed the baby so you can eat,” asks my mom.

No, just eat, I reply. Really, let me handle it, please. There’s no way these kids are going to let me eat in peace, so can everyone else just eat so we can leave? I’ll take my food to go and eat later.

The husband has seen this before, and knows to let me be. My in-laws and my mother, however, keep offering to assist. I refrain from maiming anyone with my fork and we finally leave, husband with the two grandmothers to go shoe shopping and me with the dad-in-law and children to go back to the house.

The ride back is enjoyable. The kids sleep, and dad-in-law and I drive by the water to see the Bush house. We have a festive round of Republican bashing in the car, and back at the house I finally get to eat lunch.

The rest of the day, we try to keep cool, eventually piling the kids in the car again for a two hour ride to nowhere just so they can nap in the air conditioned auto.

Day 6:

The grandparents head home for Rhode Island. While we love having them visit, and enjoy the babysitting help, it’s nice to have the house to ourselves.

We decide to go to York’s Wild Kingdom & Amusement Park. Jak-El decrees upon arrival that he does not want to go to the zoo, so we head to the ride area, expecting him to change his mind.


He takes an immediate interest in the train, so we buy some tokens, fearful if we buy him a day-pass he then won’t want to go on any rides. The train is a hit, as is the boat, bumper cars, rocket ship and just about anything else he can zoom around in.

Then, he wants to go into the “Jungle House,” a funhouse kind of thing. We decide to go for it. I go in with him, while husband stays with Dan-El. The first half is lots of fun, just twists and turns, shaky floors and the like.


We come out the top and the husband calls up to us to shoot a photo.

Then, the chaos begins.

We head down the stairs and I spy a sign with a parrot saying “Trouble Ahead!” Ah, what do parrots know?

We make the next turn and are suddenly confronted by an animatronic screaming figure wearing a tribal mask. Jak-El freaks and wants to turn around and go back the way we came, which isn’t an option.

Let me carry you, I said. He practically leaps up, wraps his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist and buries his face in my chest. I wobble through the increasingly dark and twisted tunnels past a day glo painted skeleton (which of course Jak-El opens his eyes just in time to see and freaks out more), and finally get us out of there.

Back in the sunshine, Jak-El keeps looking behind us, terrified the creatures are going to come out. They can’t get out, we assure him. “The superheroes put them in there to stay.” That nonsense and an ice cream bar calm him down.

He never did want to go to the zoo, by the way.

We spend a quiet night at home. Wine is a good thing. For us, not the kids…although it would have calmed Jak-El’s nerves, that’s for sure.

Next: Where the hell are we, Spider-Man and it’s time to go home.

Random quote of the day:

That’s nice. I always did want to put him in a cage.