This place appears to violate the laws of physics–I am sure it is bigger on the inside than the outside would indicate. (I suspect there is a TARDIS in the basement.)
There is a Noodle Forest, a space in which hundreds of pool noodles are hung from the ceiling, so close together that one can’t see through them. Moving about in there is like navigating a slowly-waving kelp forest, one with hyperactive toddler-seals that appear from nowhere, ram into one at full speed, and then disappear again. It’s more than a little unnerving, but I approve, as I just saw the human female get mightily whacked in the midriff by someone’s hard little head.
Down the hall there is a vast area where youngsters can play at keeping a store—there are a loading dock, cash registers, shopping carts, and an assortment of ersatz foodstuffs.
Sigyn is utterly charmed by the realistic fruits and soft-sculpture baked goods.
It is a toss-up as to which is sweeter, this pan dulce concha or my own little Sigyn.
So many cans! Children can learn to read and recognize some common edibles.
I was starting to think it was lunchtime, but suddenly I am not very hungry anymore.
After lunch and more playtime, it is time to go. Sigyn and I are exploring the gift shop while all the grand-tots make one last trip to the potty.
Fenrir’s Fleacollar! Unhand my beloved, you spikey-frilled hellspawn!
Whew. Are you all right, my love? That was close! Lucky for everyone that he only wanted to taste her just a little bit. For a vegetarian, he looked pretty fierce. Sigyn is damp but otherwise unscathed.
It has been an interesting day, but I am glad enough to go. I have left behind a little calling card on one of the napped-plush pillars upstairs.
The moving finger writes, and having writ, moves on…