Please, please, please have a good time. Please?


This weekend, we went to Chuck E. Cheesiest Place Ever. The kids saw a commercial for it and begged to go, and because Max managed to say some semblance of “Chuck E. Cheese” and that was worth celebrating, we went.

I so wanted him to have a good time. The thing is, though, it’s pretty much a madhouse there and a lot to handle for any kid, let alone one with sensory issues. Max just hung back and observed other kids participating.

“Come on, Max, don’t you want to go on?” I kept coaxing him.

“Noooooooooooooo,” he said.

My heart aches for him to enjoy himself. I don’t feel this anxious about my five-year-old, just Max. It’s as if, because of all that he’s been through, I want him to have the time of his life every single time we’re someplace fun. I want him to have as much fun as all the other kids are having. He may have his challenges, but having a fun disadvantage shouldn’t be one of them.

And so, amidst all the flashing lights and speeding cars games and whirling machines and kids dashing around, I saw only one thing: my Max, standing still. Watching.

But then:


He asked to be put on a ride. And he drove his little heart out.

And then he asked for more and more and more.


And then Mr. Chuck E. Cheese himself came over and hung out with him.

And, wow, was I psyched. Maybe even more than Max.

Do you know what I mean?

Ellen blogs daily at To The Max.

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