Twisting by the Pool

 

This past weekend, it was hot, humid and steamy on the northern plains. In other words, it was the perfect weather to go to a water park.  I should mention that I am not really a water park kind of gal. For one thing, you really need to wear a swimsuit to a water park. Despite all my professions of loving my body as it is, its hard to feel all pumped up about how you look in a bathing suit. I do it because my son loves to go swimming, and as a mom, I owe that to him. So vanity aside, I put on the spandex and go.

I haven’t been a water park fan since the days of Vernon Valley Action Park. It was a water park (using that term loosely) in Vernon, NJ. It was the happening place back in the day, when I was in college, mostly. There was a rapids ride, in a tube like Congo Rapids at Great Adventure, that was a lot of fun. There were some slides that were super terrifying that I inevitably got hurt on. Then there was this grotto like swimming hole that was always filled with creepy guys and idiots thinking they were cliff diving in Mexico. One of the slides gave you a major wedgies so badly you could hardly walk afterwards. Good times.

It was Jersey Shore, minus the shore.

Weird NJ has an entire section on their website devoted to "Traction Park".

Mashable even made a documentary about it. Check it out here: http://mashable.com/2013/08/28/action-park/

As a result, I am not a fan of water parks.

However, my son’s scout troop was going as their beginning of the year kick off. We went to Wild Water West, which is on the outer limits of Sioux Falls. Seeing the rising water slides in the distance always makes my kiddo happy. I was fully prepared for a long, heat filled day with overpriced, unhealthy food and crowds galore.

I was pleasantly surprised.

They had salads. Greek yogurt. Frozen grapes. Water.

Oh yeah, and funnel cake.

Little Man (who, I must add, is not so little any longer) loves the wave pool as much as I do. The first time he went in, he was hesitant, but learned to bob with the flow. It made me think of the Whitman poem:

 

 Ebb, ocean of life, (the flow will return,)
Cease not your moaning you fierce old mother,
Endlessly cry for your castaways, but fear not, deny not me,
Rustle not up so hoarse and angry against my feet as I touch you
         or gather from you.

From Walt Whitman’s As I Ebb’d with the Ocean of Life

 

 

There is a pirate’s ship play area. 

Its designed for kiddos, but of course teens and even some adults (like me) can’t resist. I went on there to make sure my son was ok. There is a giant pirate head that fills up with water, and then pours it out in a giant, whooshing dunking motion. 

My son said to me that it happens every 45 seconds. We stood and counted together, as we waited to get dunked. Not very long ago, my son was terrified of having his hair washed and getting water on his head. That day, we were drenched by gallons and gallons of water.

He convinced me to go down the slides with him. We laughed and had more fun than we’ve had together lately. We climbed ropes and gangplanks. 

We shot water cannons at others. And got dunked over and over again.

 As we were getting ready to leave, he grabbed my arm and told me to look at the sunset starting. “Mom, isn’t it beautiful?” Yes, son. Yes it is.