Day 56
Whoever dreamt up Medieval Times must have had little
boys. It’s dinner theater where
you eat with your hands and cheer on a long haired knight as he jousts on a
real horse. Yes, it is that
awesome.
My three boys and their two boy cousins proudly wear their
black and white crowns to show allegiance to our designated knight. In return, the knight graces us with
several Fabio-worthy hair flips that while not historically accurate are
entertaining none the less.
My youngest stands the entire two hours. Clearly he was born in the wrong
century. Knight blood runs through
his veins.
“This is the best night of my life!” says Ben, my 6-year-old
nephew.
“It’s like Medieval Disney,” my husband comments as we watch
the “wenches” hawk their wares: glowing swords, flags, an assortment of other
items that will be broken before we arrive home to Cincinnati.
My husband pulls out his wallet and looks down our row
counting all the kids. “I’ll take
five.” The wench hands each of the
boys a black and white striped flag with our knight’s coat of arms.
“Now let’s see some sword fighting!” A. screams and waves
the flag wildly.
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