This is the way it works. I spend a little time in their world, then they spend some time in my world.
OK, so you want to go to Jumpers to jump on huge moon bounces, where grownups can't talk because of the loud rushing sound and the incessant radio? And where the grownups' energy is slowly but consistently being sucked right out of them? Fine. But then we go to my world, a coffee shop where I can reboot with a brownie and a cup of black coffee. You can sip your frozen bubblegum-flavored what-exactly-is-that-anyway while I recuperate.
So you want to go to the Wilmington Blue Rocks game when Daddy is out of town? OK, no problem. You want to sit there through nine interminable innings, whine for three of them about how you want a hot dog, and then whine for three more about where is your friend's Dad who got the hotdogs and did he get kidnapped? OK. But then we go to Iron Hill, and have the whole upstairs to ourselves, so Mommy can have her 10-oz. Ironbound and a salad, and you can have your mac and cheese and ice cream. But it's mainly for Mommy. Because it's only fair.