Arcades used to be so magical when I was a kid. All those bright lights and bells and whistles. Music and laughter. Tickets and prizes. My sister and I never wanted to leave.
Pure fun. Pure excitement.
We had a family reunion this weekend and there was an arcade on the grounds. All the kids were drawn to it like a Pied Piper. I had to check it out.
Somehow they don't seem so magical as an adult. The bells ring too often, the lights are too many and the music is so loud. The tickets are few and far between and the prizes seem cheap. I couldn't wait to get out of there.
But not before I snapped a few shots.
One of my cousins daughters decided she wanted to take J home with her. She's seven years old and cute as a button. Sassy, too.
"You're coming home with me, Bonjo!" she cried, grabbing his arm and swinging from it. J just laughed, letting her dangle there and giggle. He's such a good sport, that Bonjo.
Bonjo, J's new nickname. Love it.