A Summer Tradition

Summer vacation is officially more than half over. As we shake our heads and marvel about how quickly the time passes, we must now buckle down and start crossing off all those items on our “to-do” list before the leaves turn gold, the air turns cold and the school bus doors unfold.

Time for a trip to Canobie Lake Park.

This has become a summer tradition for my family. Having grown up in New Jersey, I missed having my formative years revolve around “Story Land” and “Santa’s Village”. (We were too busy going down the shore, enjoying the rides at Seaside Heights long before Snookie and The Situation ever heard of the place).

Canobie Lake is the perfect day trip. It’s located just an hour from home and reasonably priced (with discount tickets from Costco, our family of four managed to get in for under $100). The park is large enough to never feel crowded, yet small enough to negotiate even with little kids. And it’s our family’s benchmark for measuring when my children are ready to visit Disney World.

As my kids are quick to remind me, we are the only family they know who has never been to Disney World. To which I reply,”When you can go on all the big rides at Canobie Lake Park, then we’ll consider taking you to Disney.” So far, no go.

My favorite ride in the park is the Canobie Corkscrew roller coaster. Each year we go directly from the park entrance to this ride so I can get my fix of being flung upside down for thirty seconds. On our last trip to the park, my oldest son successfully took the plunge with me (twice). This year, I was hoping for my younger son to join me. Would he make it? Or would he turn tail and run back down the ramp at the last minute? After watching his mom and older brother survive a run, he bravely, quietly accompanied me up the ramp. He solemnly climbed into his seat and pulled the restraint down over his head. I could tell the anticipation of the initial climb was making him anxious, so I reached over and held his hand. As we plummeted down the steep drop, the terror on his face turned to wonder as the coaster gracefully snaked its way through the corkscrew, turning his world upside down and back again. By the ride’s end, he was beaming. As we exited the coaster, I told him how proud I was of his accomplishment. He smiled and said, “It was scary, but fun.” “Want to do it again?” I asked, to which he replied, “No thanks.”

After several hours of rides, my kids decided it was time to visit “Castaway Island”, Canobie’s water park. Our very first visit to the park was on a cool day with a steady drizzle of rain, making the freezing cold water that spurts out of Castaway’s climbing structure even more miserable. But this year, we chose a warm, sunny day. As my husband and I relaxed on lounge chairs, our kids climbed up and down the enormous jungle gym of Castaway Island, spraying other kids with water hoses, dodging the giant bucket of water that dumps every thirty seconds, and sliding down the assortment of slides.

I’ve often thought that a visitor from another planet would be able to see just about every type of human specimen by visiting a water park. I’m pretty modest when it comes to my swimsuit; I wear one with enough coverage and spandex to keep everything essential covered and in place. Not everyone at Castaway Island subscribes to this same school of thought. The prevailing mentality was “If you’ve got it, flaunt it” (sadly, most of them didn’t have it, or they had too much of it). My friend always says if you want to feel like a supermodel, go to a water park. As an added bonus, we saw an incredible array of tattoos and body piercings (okay, I understand the pierced lip and the ear discs, but what’s with the black spikes that came out of that guy’s nose?)

Being frugal, I packed my family a lunch, which we enjoyed outside the park, but that didn’t stop my kids from commenting on every salty, fried concoction that went by. I treated each of them to a caramel coated apple (hey, it may be covered in sugar and sprinkles, but at least there’s fruit underneath). Before we left the park, I had to indulge in my own personal favorite: Funnel Cake. This treat is often hard to find, replaced by its New England cousin, Fried Dough. “What’s the difference?” my husband asked. Fried dough is a wad of bread dough deep fried and covered with butter and powdered sugar, while funnel cake is batter drizzled through a funnel into the fry-o-later, plopped on a plate, and also covered with powdered sugar. They sound the same, but in my opinion, when it comes to fried treats, funnel cake is clearly the victor.

As the sun set, we packed up our swimsuits, brushed off the powdered sugar and headed home. Recapping the events of the day, my youngest son overcame his fear of the corkscrew coaster while my older son tried out new rides like the Turkish Twist (centrifugal force at its best) and the Wave Blaster (guaranteed to jolt the lunch right out of you). However, both children refused to accompany us on the old wooden roller coaster, The Yankee Cannonball.
I guess Disney can wait.