Look at all the gorgeous wonders of nature, kids! Kids? Hello?

Travel tip for all you parents out there: If you’d like to take your kids on a nature hike to see a spectacular waterfall in the mountains, don’t do it less than 24 hours after taking them to an enormous amusement park, because if you do, your kids will tell nature to go suck it.

Yes, the morning after we went to Story Land, the weather again was beautiful, and seeing as how we were in the White Mountains and all, we decided we should take in some of the natural splendor of the region … so we checked out of the hotel — oh, wait: the hotel! Lemme back up and tell you about that for a minute, because it, too, contributed significantly to the children’s general ennui about the amazing site to which we dragged them on Monday.

So, after we left Story Land, we checked into our hotel, which was actually much nicer than what I had been expecting … and since Wonder Woman had booked it at a comparatively el cheapo rate, this was a pleasant surprise.

The kids were raring to get in the pool, but we opted to do dinner first, because we wanted to see if they really would cramp up and sink to the bottom if they swam right after eating, since that’s what our parents always told us would happen.

Their enthusiasm about getting to the pool had not diminished during the course of dinner, and when I ended up being the one holding everybody up so that I could finish my mostly full pint of beer, Wonder Woman, in a moment of parental brilliance, encouraged the children to tell me to chug it. Of course, I showed her, because I did chug it.

“Whoah!” said Zan, impressed by my display of rapid alcohol consumption. (Like any good parent, I like to show him things he can strive for as he gets older.)

“Well, that was completely inappropriate,” I said as we stood to leave, and, at that same instant, I realized that the young family at the table directly across from us had witnessed this impressive display of parenting genius. Fortunately, rather than staring at me with disdain, the father was trying to keep from bursting into a laughing fit, presumably because to do so would mean having to tell to his kids what was so funny, thereby leaving him with the choice of a.) lying, or b.) explaining binge drinking.

So, with our bellies full and our blood-alcohol content elevated, we set off to the pool, which I must say, was lovely. The sun was setting above the mountains as we moved back and forth (and back … and forth … and back and forth again) between the mushroom-fountain-equipped kiddie pool, and the family-friendly (read: 3.5 foot deep) regular pool. It was basically a conglomeration of parents who were sharing a collective moment of “Thank god we don’t have to coax the kids into the car right now and drive all the way home,” which made for a rather festive atmosphere.

Of course, the biggest challenge about spending the night with the kids at a hotel is the actual “spending the night” part.

“We should probably bring the guardrails on Jayna’s bed,” Wonder Woman said to me the night before our trip.

“Yeah, definitely,” I replied.

And then we both promptly forgot all about it.

This made for an interesting night, seeing as how I spent the first three hours of it springing out of bed and pushing Jayna back to the center of her cot every time my Hyper-Sensitive Parental-Alert Hearing jerked me awake after detecting the sound of her body getting too close to the unprotected edge (or the sound of her body slamming into the wall on the other side of the cot, and if you were in the room next to us that night: Sorry!)

“But Jon,” you say, “why not just put a chair or something up against the unprotected side of the bed?”

“Because,” I reply, “when I did that at the beach house this summer, I got woken up at 3 a.m. by a child saying that they didn’t like having a chair against their bed!”

Of course, when I realized that sleeping until 3 a.m. was a better deal than performing a rescue operation every five minutes, I placed not one, but two chairs next to her bed, and we all made it to the five o’clock hour.

The kids logged some more time in the pool before we checked out, as well as some time in the hotel’s playground … all of which gives you some idea why, when we parked and walked a whole half mile into the woods, the kids mostly yawned when we finally saw this:

To be fair, they did enjoy it for a short while …

But Zan was under the impression that he was going to get to do some serious swimming, which wasn’t really an option … and Jayna slipped and fell on her ass in the water fully clothed, despite Anxiety Man’s best efforts to warn everyone to be careful on the rocks and to not get to close to the edge of the big drop-offs, because they could slip and fall and wreck themselves, and am I the only one who envisions the worst-case scenario in every situation, and then spends most of the time trying to corral everyone in order to avoid said worst-case scenario? Because, boy, do I ever get twitchy in situations where the kids could, you know, plummet to their death … something about which the fearless Wonder Woman seems to be a bit more nonchalant … so, I suppose, between the two of us, it kind of balances out (which is my way of saying, “See? It’s a good thing that I’m sporting a borderline anxiety disorder!”).

And so, after spending 15 minutes stranded in the depths of the No Fun Forest, Zan declared that it was the worst day ever, and he couldn’t believe we made him leave the pool at the hotel in order to bring him to this evil place, and Jayna concurred. So back to the car we went.

Of course, they couldn’t walk that grueling half-mile trail back to the car, because they were too tired and their legs hurt and waaaaaaaaaaahhhhhfuckinwahhhhhhh! (Sorry; I get it out of my system here so I can tolerate it when I’m with them.) So, Jayna rode my shoulders most of the way back …

… while Zan kept asking Mommy to pick up his 75-pound ass and carry him, which wasn’t an option that Mommy was particularly interested in entertaining.

We eventually switched kids, and Zan rode piggy-back style the rest of the way, and I got a nice leg workout while pretending I was back in the army and he was my fully-loaded rucksack.

Finally, thank mercy, we emerged from the depths of the boring, awful, not-a-pool-or-amusement-park-in-sight forest and loaded into the Scratchesmobile. And now we were faced with a decision: Do we bid New Hampshire adieu and head home, or do we try to salvage the day by seeking out the kind of sensory-overloading fun for which the kids were so yearning?

Well, I had the day off, and it was barely noon, and sweet mother, was it ever beautiful out, so I made a command decision to head not south, but north! Because sometimes? Sometimes, I’m just nutty like that. A total wild man. Stand back, y’all; Mr. Spontaneity coming through. (Carefully, though. Be careful. Don’t get too close to the edge; it’s slippery, and you could fall and hurt yourself.)

Much to our delight, the decision to throw caution to the wind and venture further into the mountains turned out to be the right one … because, man, did we end up showing the kids a good time.

To be continued …

[I swear, I only planned on recapping this whole trip in a single entry ... and I was sure that two entries would be more than enough ... but when I cracked 1,300 words on this one, and my eyes started to glaze over, and the very real threat of the incredibly cool tale that follows getting short shrift presented itself, I decided to go with another trilogy ... but I swear, this won't turn into a quadruplology like that whole "My Summer Vacation" saga did.]