PSF: It's Kn*tt The Same As I Remembered

Hosted by Cecily and Mama Geek

If growing older hasn't already caused you to look at life with a slightly more jaded eye, going to a bastion of Southern California family tourism on a busy summer weekend sure will.

Some vacation advice from FrumpMama:

Never go to Kn*tts Berry Farm on a weekend.

Any weekend during the summer.

Not even weekends that the locals will tell you aren't crowded.

Because millions of other people will have the very same idea.

And you will fret about losing your children in the crush of humanity.

I do not advise a trip like this when temps in Southern California are predicted to be in the 100's and you don't "do" heat well.

Or if you have asthma.

Because you never realize how many of those rides are powered by gas and diesel until you have asthma and begin to suffer from all the fumes minutes after entering the park.

And because you notice that your toddler is, with unbridled enthusiasm, looking up at all the colorful roller coaster tracks looping high above your heads, and you see the little wheels turning in his brain as he devises a way to escape from your clutches and climb to the highest point in the park, which adds a little stress to an already difficult breathing situation.

Thank you, but I'm not wild about becoming that parent whose child becomes a news headline for climbing roller coaster tracks when I turn my back for a second.

With a toddler son like Taz Judah, a mom can't be too careful.

Thankfully, he didn't manage to do that, but he did do other maniacal things...like climb over fences meant to keep people out of dangerous areas, and try to get out of his restraints on a couple of the rides while in motion.

Now our trip to Kn*tts was long anticipated by our family.

Jericho was looking forward to recapturing some of the nostalgia from his younger childhood years, since our last vacation there was when he was only about five.



Judah was all aflutter at getting to see "Thomas", and take a ride on Thomas.

We know this because he asked us at least two hundred and eighty five times on the drive there one of the following:

"Do we get to thee Thomath?"

"Do I get to wide Thomath?"

"Will you thit by me on Thomath?"

"Do we get to thee Thomath?"

"Do I get to wide Thomath?"

"Will you thit by me on Thomath?"

It didn't matter how many times we enthusiastically answered his questions, he continued to pepper us with the same ones over and over and over all. the. way. there.

It was a very, very long trip.

When we finally arrived it was already lunchtime.

Immediately following a renowned Mrs. Kn*tts picnic lunch, to put the kid out of his misery satisfy his curiosity, we took Judah for a train ride on "Thomas".

All abooooard!



All trains are Thomas to our son.



We know this because we live near some train tracks, and some days we'll be calmly driving down the road, and Judah will suddenly scream bloody murder shout with glee from his carseat in the back, "Thomath!" and we will know that he has spotted a train.

And after I recover from heart palpitations and swerving all over the road, I will try to calmly join in his happiness by saying, "Yes, Judah, there's Thomas. But please don't yell while I'm driving, okay?" and somehow manage to refrain from dampening his enthusiasm by launching into a diatribe on heart attacks and traffic accidents brought on by sudden shrieks.

No sooner did we board the train than we were robbed by a 'bad guy'. (Looks pretty scary, doesn't he?)



'Shaken', we got off the train at the next stop.

It was near the grave with the telltale beating heart.



Jericho was not impressed. Pfffft, lame special effects, his body language seemed to say.

But then we came to the jail.

Jeff sent Jericho and I on ahead to look inside while he stayed behind with Judah and our ungainly stroller.

Some dummy was sitting inside the cramped little jail cell.

He said to us, "Well hello, Jericho and Becky!" And without moving his mouth, began 'chatting' about the weather in our hometown, which he named specifically.

Now I knew Jeff somehow had a hand in that, but Jericho was entranced. "How does he know?" his eyes asked, wide with amazement.

The dummy went on to ask how his grandma Bonnie was doing, and what his cousin Kody was up to these days. Jericho was astounded.

Just as we were walking away, the dummy said something else which I didn't catch.

Jericho did, however, and came running up to breathlessly inform me, "Mom! He said he reads your blog!'"

I had to laugh. It was that little tidbit that convinced Jericho that the dummy somehow knew us... nevermind that the dummy sat still the entire time, was made of wood, and looked more like a badly painted chainsaw carving than a real person.

Jeff and the guy in the 'telegraph' office around the corner both looked awfully suspicious when we walked up to the counter.

For a while, we stayed together as a family, enjoying some of the sights and shops throughout the park, then made our way to Camp Snoopy and all the kiddie rides.



The original Snoop-dawg and his entourage.

Judah loved this part of our day.

And I'm proud to say that he totally owned those rides.

He rode everything he was tall enough to ride, and insisted on holding his hands up in the air like the big kids do on the roller coasters...on every. single. ride.

He also took it like a champ when the scrambler jerked to a start, and every little kid on the ride was suddenly banged into the sides of their seats. Because they're all about amusing kids in this place.

He didn't cry or anything.



Later, because he still hadn't got his fill of Thomas, we put him on a rustic and charming little ride that didn't have much of a line.

It soon became clear why this 'attraction' was called the "Huff & Puff".

And why there was no line.

I ask you this...what red-blooded child is going to go into raptures of delight knowing they have to 'pump' their train car around the track by moving a bar up and down...by their own steam...in 105 degree heat?



Whee. This is great fun...I think.

The attendant had to come around and push Judah's cart several times because he was holding things up for the other kids on the track.

She really earned her money that day, let me tell you!

I'm thinking perhaps they should rethink the height requirement for that one.

And maybe rename it Pa Ingalls' Trip to Volga. (That must have been a long, loooong trip).

Moving along, we saw on our park map that there was yet another train ride available, and so walked across the State the park and got in the long, winding line.

For ambience, while standing in line, they have a small river stream that rushes down the giant chicken-wire/foam/stucco 'mountain' past your feet.

Naturally, Judah spotted it immediately and promptly began panning for gold.



Later, while still waiting in that same long, looong line under the beating hot SoCal sun, Judah began misbehaving in a big way. We were forced to take disciplinary action, and then threaten to not take him on Thomas if he continued acting up.

He immediately obeyed. I guess he knew better than to jeapordize his chances at seeing his beloved Thomas again.

At long last, we made it through the turnstiles and boarded our rickety little ore cart.

As we left daylight and descended into the fake mountain bowels of the earth, Judah began to get really squirmy. Kept twisting around and hanging over the edge to see what was going on. (This was one ride you didn't need safety restraints on.)

So for fun to get him to shape up, I asked the very ominous and thought-provoking question, "Judah, is this where the dinosaurs live?"

He became a little wary of his surroundings at that point, and sat still.

Very still.

Jericho, too, though he would never cop to it.



Which was good, because the stench of the mummies dummies that were working that mine, and the musty, dusty interior of the place really got to me. I was sneezing almost uncontrollably, which totally incapacitated me for the remainder of the ride, and would have rendered me completely helpless to give chase if Judah suddenly decided to go spelunking and Bo Duked it over the side of the cart.

As we wound our way through the "mine" past the chilling scenes with the decrepit mummies of long-gone miners, he clung to his daddy and was never so excited to see the great outdoors as he was when we came up out of the tunnel mine. "Weow outsthide!" he exclaimed in relief.

But his joy was shortlived, because we wound in and out several more times before the ride came to a full and complete stop.

Never was a child so happy to set his feet on terra firma once again.

Imagine...all the fast, looping scary rides at Kn*tts, and he's afraid of the herky-jerky little old Gold Mine ride! Mwahahahaha!

It was about this point that daddy and Jericho split. They wanted to go on big rides that Judah would never be allowed on.

Things like the Ferris Wheel.



And a whole bunch of roller coasters and other rides that I didn't have the guts to go on feel were worth standing in hour-long lines for.

So I continued through Camp Snoopy with Judah, letting him re-ride a couple of his favorites.

Later, he and I took a breather and sat and watched a terrific cultural Mexican Ballet troupe, Pur* C*razon, perform.

Their performance was a lovely journey through Old Mexico, with performances of traditional regional dance.

Something about how each number was introduced reminded me of watching Lawrence Welk with my grandma as a kid, except without the polka and much blowing of bubbles.

I was entranced. It was all so beautiful. And colorful. And well synchronized.

The girls and boys all looked so sweet, performing each number with absolute joy on their faces, never missing a step. They were really good.

Judah sat in his stroller throughout this entire show, watching intently and even clapping when the crowd did.

When that show was over, I saw that Judah was getting kind of sleepy and was obviously in need of a nap.

We poked in and out of shops until another show was to start up.

Later, while standing in a crowded area watching a skateboard/trampoline show, I saw the crowd around me begin to part.

I looked up to see a grown man wearing beaded underwear and a large beaded neck-piece that looked somehwhat Native American stride past pushing a flatbed hand cart.

I only wish I could have gotten my camera out soon enough to catch the reaction of the men in the crowd as they glanced over to see what the commotion was about, only to do double-takes, and then nudge each other and try to contain their laughter. This definitely put the amuse in amusement park for me.

Later that evening, while Jericho and Jeff were still in line at one of the rides, we sat down to watch another show, and lo and behold if it wasn't beaded-underwear man again.

Blowing on a conch shell.

Here are a couple of his friends.

As they began their performance, they informed us that they were of Aztec descent, though their regalia looked very much Native American.

Though the pictures don't do them justice, the costumes were incredible, especially their feathered headdresses, and as their dancing and drums got louder and louder, I could suddenly understand the feelings my grandma had as a young child in a logging camp in the Pacific Northwest, when she spoke of hearing the coastal Native American's pow-wows off in the distance. The drum beats seemed to make your heart beat faster.

Shortly thereafter, we met up with Jeff and Jericho, and decided to make a stop off at the "Gem" store on our way out of the park.

This was the rustic building where period costumed folks sold geodes that they would slice open for you with a modern electric saw.

Jericho wasn't quite sure how he wanted to spend his money, and went inside to take a look at other specimens and fossils for sale.

Judah and I had already been in and out of that store earlier, so we waited outside.

The crowds were beginning to drift towards the park exit, but there was a small commotion from a family seated on some benches near the shop. "La cucaracha!, La cucaracha!" the woman shrieked, and hopped up on the bench.

Sure enough, there on the outside window of the gem store was one of the biggest cockroaches I'd ever seen.

So big, I'm thinking it might have even hissed.

I recoiled.

Because just across the way was the very building where we'd had our 'famous' Mrs. Kn*tts picnic lunch earlier that day.

Ugh.

I guess it brought back the unpleasant memory of the time that my friend Natasha and I took a road trip to Disneyland when Jericho was just a little tot. At the end of a long day, we were standing near a beautifully lit fountain at the base of the Disneyland Hotel, waiting for the parade to pass by.

Jericho, who was three or four at the time, was getting kind of sleepy, and so I was holding him and sort of swaying to the music coming over the loudspeakers, when he lifted his head from my shoulder and said, "Awww, mama...look at that cute mouse."

I thought Mickey and Minnie must be heading up the long-awaited parade, but when I turned to where he was pointing, we instead saw a ginormous rat scuttling along the base of the Disneyland Hotel.

And I jumped up on the nearest bench screaming.

Totally ruined it for me, shaking all the pixie dust off of the whole experience.

No, my friends...going to theme parks as an adult is simply Kn*tt the same as I remembered it.

But it was worth it all to see moments like this.

When we finally got to the car, Judah asked for some food. After hiking all over that park, he was hungry.

He just didn't have the energy left to eat it.

Now that is tired.