Last Sunday, we dropped Monkey off to her Dads for three weeks. This is the first time she's spent that long over there, and the longest period of time that her and Krista have been apart. I imagine it'll be a little rough for both of them. It doesn't bother me too much, because I grew up with this kind of arrangement, and I imagine that while my parents missed me at some point, they were glad for the break.
Anyways, the night before we dropped her off, they had a shin-dig down at Fairy Tale Town. Fairy Tale Town (since I know you're all like, "WTF is FFT?") is a park inside a park in Sacramento, with slides and little jungle-gym set ups, all themed around different fairy-tales and Mother Goose stories. It's actually pretty cool, well maintained, inexpensive, and you can let the kid(s) run around until they're completely drained of energy. It is, to put in simply, fucking awesome.
So, the shin-dig. It was called the "Mid-summers Night Dream" festival, and it was in the evening. Fred and Brat went with us (Nancy was in Georgia), and we had a blast. All you can eat ice cream, Wicked 'Wich sandwiches (Out-fucking-standing), a beer booth, crafts booths, and a Celtic rock band called Tempest. We walked around, ate ice cream, and listened to a truly enjoyable band. There were people dressed up as fairies and other Renn-Faire type costumes, and the whole thing was great.
But the icing on the cake was Brat. For whatever reason, Brat (12) has a genuine affection for Monkey (4), and of course Monkey adores Brat. We try not to take advantage of pawning off Monkey onto Brat, and even kick her down some cash for baby-sitting. She swears she doesn't mind it, but I am extremely grateful that she's even remotely willing to spend time with someone who is a third her age. Definitely made our night easier.
So, after it was over, we went home. We attempted to put Monkey to bed (it was 10:30 when we got home), who suddenly had an upset stomach, which resulted in a fair bit of crying and complaining, followed by a massive shit. And she slept happily ever-after.
But, back to the title...
Kids are like wine. They have the potential to get better with age, but the can also turn to shit. Maybe it's all about how you handle them?