For Daniel’s birthday I asked how would he like to celebrate. Big parties right now are out of the question but I always allow the birthday clown to decide the meal for that day. Daniel’s choice I knew would be pizza…a no brainer…piece of cake. He looked at me thoughtfully and asked, “How about we have my birthday at Chuck E. Cheese?”

Chuck E. Cheese?

The boy has never been to a Chuck E. Cheese. His early medical needs pretty much prevented us from taking him to that Rat’s nest. His sensory processing issues and difficulties over the years practically guaranteed that this would be the LAST place we would ever take him. The last time I had been in a Chuck E. Cheese Jodie was 3 years old. I haven’t missed the place and I certainly was willing to continue to deprive myself of going there for Daniel’s sake over the years. But this year, for his birthday, more than anything in the whole wide world, the boy wanted to go there.

Okay, who planted that idea in his head? Damn you Nickelodeon or any 2nd grade peer running around on the playground. Okay, I take back damnation for the innocent classmates, but I refuse to let Nickelodeon off the hook.

Chuck E. Cheese?

Really?

Why?

But Chuck E. Cheese is the place that Daniel wants to be to celebrate with his family and closest friend sooo….Chuck E. Cheese it is.

Sitting at my table watching kids running amuck screaming and yelling and crying in a child’s version of a Vegas casino, I wonder why doesn’t this place serve vodka for the parents…they should.

Oh lordy help me!

I do love my son and would do anything I could for him but this is so hard. Then I see him having so much fun. He’s playing games and collecting tickets (for cheap awesome prizes) galore and running back to the table to gather up more game tokens to head off to play some more games and win some more…and he is having so much fun. The cardboard with cheese they label as pizza is absolutely delicious he declares. He seems to be oblivious or perhaps thriving in this sugar overloaded chaos of bright, flashing lights, loud bells and whistles, screaming children invading his personal bubble. He is having fun. Mommy wants vodka but my boy is having fun. Even having pop rocks candy explode in his extraordinarily sensitive mouth is the most amazing, delightful sensation ever. My boy is having so much fun. And I find myself having so much fun because my nine year old boy is having normal, crazy, chaotic, hyper fun in Chuck E. Cheese…like the rest of the children in the house.

Okay, perhaps I don’t need the vodka after all.

Life with Daniel has always been about celebrating the normal no matter how annoying or exhausting or mind numbing it can be. The joyful, good things are always good and celebrated but so are the not so good, but normal childhood things. For me, Chuck E. Cheese is not good. But my boy wanting to be there and having the time of his life is good…very good…so typical, so normal and so very good.

Thank goodness on the way home he suggested that next year he would rather party at Boomers playing mini golf and driving go-karts. Because next year he is going to be :::gulp:::ten years old!