Full of amusement

CARLSBAD, Calif. – There’s danger lurking at amusement parks.

The danger is a word. And that word is “again.”

As in: “Uncle Craig, Shipwreck Rapids got us soooo wet. Can we ride it again?”

Or: “Uncle Craig, Bionicle Blaster made me so dizzy, I think I’m going to throw up. Let’s go again!”

Or, simply: “Coastersaurus! Again, again, again!”

Coastersaurus, for those who haven’t heard, is a roller coaster at Legoland. I rode it recently. Again and again and again.

I rode many coasters, in fact. My mission was to rate the newest rides and attractions at Legoland in Carlsbad and SeaWorld in San Diego. Tough work.

Enter Daniel, age 6. He’s more than a nephew. He’s a coaster connoisseur, a maestro of amusement. This is a kid who, at 3, was doling out critiques of Knott’s Berry Farm and chiding the park’s mascot, Snoopy, for not being attentive enough.

For our outing, the kid rated rides using the system of Mrs. Matzner, his first-grade teacher. If a ride earned a 4, that meant it was very good, he said. A grade of 3 meant pretty good, 2 meant OK and 1 meant trouble.

Coming along for the ride were Daniel’s 2-year-old brother, Eric, a protege in the making, and my partner, Todd.

One Saturday morning we were among the first to pass through Legoland’s turnstiles, beelining for the park’s new marquee ride, the Coastersaurus.

Daniel looked up at the twisting track. He glanced at Uncle Todd, who’s a tad roller-coaster-phobic. Then he muttered to me: “He’s going to be crying for his mommy.”

Turns out the Coastersaurus — a junior coaster, in theme park parlance — wasn’t so scary. Our little cart scooted around a life-sized brachiosaurus made of Lego bricks, never whizzing much faster than 20 mph. There was virtually no wait to get on, so by 10:15 we had ridden it twice.

“My face was like this!” Daniel exulted, pulling his cheeks toward his ears. The G-forces really weren’t that strong, and I thought ride designers had done too little to dress up the simple track layout. But none of that mattered to the kid. His rating: 4.

Coastersaurus is part of a new dinosaur-themed part of Legoland that also includes Dig Those Dinos, a sand play area where children can dig for fake bones, teeth and other “fossils.” An added $3 fee to rent a brush and pail was irksome.

The same held true for Raptor Splash, another new play area. Opposing teams used giant slingshots to launch water balloons at each other’s “battle stations.” The catch: You had to buy the buckets of balloons.

Daniel thought the game looked to be a surefire 4. His cheap uncle gave the pay-as-you-play concept a solid 1.

We moved on to the new Fun Town Fire Academy. The line was short, the wait only two minutes. We soon found out why.

The goal is to pile into a hand-pump-powered truck, race other families to a “burning” house, use a hand-powered hose to douse faux flames, then pump your truck back to the station.

Simple enough, except all the adults act as though winning is a matter of life and death. Blame peer pressure: When the fire-station bell rang, I couldn’t help but push and pull on our truck’s hand pump with fury. By the time we finished — alas, in fourth place — I was doubled over, our house fire extinguished but my lungs ablaze.

Daniel: “Again!”

Me: “Maybe (gasp) later (gasp). What grade do you (gasp) give this?”

Daniel: “It gets a 4.”

Me: “Why?”

Daniel: “Because it tires you out.” (Insert a 6-year-old’s giggles here.)

It took the Dragon roller coaster — about as fast and furious as Legoland gets — for our critic to reach his limits.

“Umm, I’m a little scared,” he announced with painful sincerity as we climbed into the passenger cart. “I’m going to regret this.”

We sped off in a series of body-twisting, cheek-flapping turns. The kid still had a death grip on my arm when we pulled back into the station.

“What did you think of the ride?” I asked hesitantly.

Daniel paused with an odd, blank face, as though he might get sick.

“It’s a 4!” he said, breaking into a smile. “Let’s go again!”

We gave the Dragon another whirl.

The weekend ended on a high note with a day at SeaWorld.

The park’s new ride, Journey to Atlantis, won us over with its innovations. It combined the long, splash-filled plunge of traditional water rides with roller-coaster twists and turns.

Worried that the ride might be too intense for my star critic — he is 6, after all — I dragged coaster-phobic Todd into line with me instead, where a recorded voice warned us to secure all prosthetic devices lest they be shaken loose.

We made it through, limbs intact, eager to ride again. Even the coaster-phobe gave Atlantis a 3.

The rest of the day was spent with the kids, watching sea lions beg for food, going eye to eye with great whites in the shark tunnel and touching the spongy, slippery torsos of bat rays. At Daniel’s behest, we rode Shipwreck Rapids, a rousing raft ride on a simulated river.

We walked away with shirts dripping, shoes squeaking and a 6-year-old pleading with his uncles to please, please, please take him on the ride again.