|THIS is gambling. (And creepy.)|
Last weekend, we took Peanut to The Land of Make Believe, a small, low-key amusement park tucked into the mountains of northwest New Jersey. She loves it because she can ride everything there. My Director and I love it because it requires a fraction of the cost and features a fraction of the crowds of a big amusement park, and Peanut's just as happy if not more.
On our way out, we passed the carnival games. Peanut is at an age where she
|The devilish wheel of financial doom tempts an|
unsuspecting child with promises of riches for just a quarter.
This day, however, something called me to that devilish wheel of financial doom. "A dollar to play," the skinny, pimple-faced fourteen year-old running the stand squeaked at me in his Peter Brady voice. Peanut didn't even ask me to win her something this time. I just wanted to play. For reasons I can't explain.
"We're just going to put one dollar on Pop," I told Peanut. "For Popsie." Popsie is what she calls my dad, who died four years before she was born. I placed my coin on the square labeled Pop. Peanut pressed the button to start the arrow on its dizzying journey around the wheel. We watched and waited. She pressed it again to slow it down and wouldn't you know, it landed on Pop. For Popsie:
|Dead center too.|
No doubt about it.
|Peanut about to go to bed with her|
new fish friend. (Name TBA.)
The other sign My Director was referring to took place on our second honeymoon trip in Italy earlier in the summer. I wrote about that HERE.