I've been meaning to take Munch to this little water park near our house all summer. For one reason or another, it never happened. But, Saturday, I accomplished this goal, and it was everything I knew it would be.
From the second I pulled him out of the car and he could hear the water splashing, he smiled. He couldn't wait to get his tee-shirt off and took off toward the fountains, running and squealing (his high-pitched, I-can't-believe-I-get-to-do-something-so-amazing squeal).
Of course, the play area offered plenty of toddler-friendly activities--a frog that spit; tiny dancing fountains tossing arcs of water back and forth; a short slide; a rock formation with a delicate waterfall; mushrooms dripping water.
Munch made directly for the loudest, most powerful ring of fountains at the center. With about a 30-foot diameter at the widest point, these concentric circles of plowing water made me squish my eyes shut and shake my head. So I can't imagine what it did to my water baby, who kept running into the stream and staggering around after, only to go right back for more.
Munch got cold pretty quickly; he shook after about 20 minutes, and he cried going to the parking lot. That child would play in the water until he turned into a tiny iceberg.
I brought him back for another 20 minutes that afternoon, and this time he wanted to stand underneath the big buckets of water that filled and dumped 15 feet down every few minutes. I curled my body over Munch as he stood and waited and that water hurt. If it would have hit Munch full-on, he would have been knocked to the ground.
And, I'm sure, stood up squealing in delight for the next drenching.