Etch a Sketch

No matter how much of an artist you fancy yourself to be, spend more than ten minutes with an Etch-a-Sketch and you will have a new appreciation for the beauty of the straight line.
This is what I discovered today as I sat in a large play area watching my daughter race around on a scooter. Mind you, this was in hour four of our time at Mr. Biggs, the 144,000 square foot extravaganza of kid awesomeness in Littleton.
Other things I learned:
1. Mr. Biggs serves alchohol. Any connection to the brain-frothing techno music and constant kid screams? Probably just a coincidence.
2. Super-goth, meta-pierced weird chicks can still have cute little girls that love dressing up as princesses. I wonder if this disappoints them, as I might be if Ryley ever asked to dye her hair black and stop going out in the daylight.
3. I thought that working in a restaurant (my occupation) was the most thankless job on the planet. Thanks to seeing the girl cleaning up the play area, over and over again, followed immediately by screaming whirlwinds of destruction, I stand corrected.

I met my dad and his wife there to have lunch after church. Their suggestion. My dad is always on the lookout for new awesomeness to which he can introduce his granddaughter, and boy, did he deliver this time.
Being a single dad for the weekend, and feeling guilty about all the time I've been spending at work lately, I promised my daughter that for once we would stay until she was ready to go. Big mistake. I finally told her we had to leave at the five hour mark, with her insisting that she wanted to play just a little longer right up until she was passed out in the van, about 5 minutes after I pulled out of the parking lot.
Oh, to be a kid again. I wanted nothing more than to crawl in the back and close my eyes as well, but the laws of good parenting stated I shouldn't do that while driving down the highway. I can't wait to pick up my beautiful wife at the airport tomorrow, so I can take a nap.