Chuck E. Cheese debuts Sensory Sensitive Sundays
Editor’s note: “A Special World” relates programs and experiences by and for the disabled community in Greater Houston.
“Can’t go back there … Can’t go back there,” the woman muttered, recalling the bright lights, shrieking laughter and deafening music. That place was a fun house on steroids, and it left her jingle-jangled and numb.
OK, OK. I’m that woman, and I wasn’t really suffering from some mild version of posttraumatic stress. As many parents know, Chuck E. Cheese’s, though a blast for most kids, can be a blast to the senses. If it’s all almost too much for me, it surely can be for children like my son, who has autism.
So imagine my skepticism when I learned the place “Where a Kid Can Be a Kid” has introduced Sensory Sensitive Sundays for families with children on the autism spectrum or others for whom sensory overload can be an issue. Offered the first Sunday of the month, the event promises smaller crowds, dimmed lighting, the music turned off or down and limited appearances by costumed characters.
But that usual cacophony of arcade games, magnified when mascot Chuck E. and friends sing and dance amid swinging spotlights and cheers, has always been part of what makes Chuck E. Cheese’s such a fun party. Could the mouse grasp the concept of toning it down? I decided to find out.
“We want to ensure that children with autism spectrum
disorder and other special needs have the same opportunity to enjoy the experience of visiting Chuck E. Cheese’s as their peers,” company representative Ami Anderson said. To that end, in January “we partnered with the Center for Autism and Related Disorders (CARD) to introduce this new sensory-friendly monthly event in the Northeast.” The test program’s success led to its expansion to 355 locations nationwide on April 2, World Autism Awareness Day.
Sure enough, at a Houston location a friend and I chose, a calm space greeted us as our sons darted among the games. Without a full house, the pings and dings of the machines didn’t assault us. The stage was dark, pre-birthday-party hour. We settled right in.
On this particular day, Chuck E. was nowhere in sight. He appears on a case-by-case basis; as part of CARD’s training on sensory challenges, employees are encouraged to “gauge the room and ask parents whether we should bring out Chuck E.,” Anderson said.
At midmorning, I was hoping the salad bar
would have been replaced with a buffet of eggs and pancakes. Just the regular menu was on offer, so my friend and I stuck with coffee. But for the kids, it was pizza for breakfast — and in the eyes of preteens, that made us the coolest moms ever.
Then we were off to shoot dinosaurs in a Jurassic Park game with a bucking seat, fire the puck in air hockey and catch balls of “rock” propelled from the surface of an alien planet in Comet Catcher. The boys explored at their leisure, and mine smiled, covering his ears only when a game called Dog Pounder invited guests to play a round with a bold “woof!”
We finished up as the staff was readying the tables for the parties to come and the first customers of the regular day were arriving — before the eruption of a din that in the past has left my son in tears. Instead, he told me he wants to come back.
After the boys chose their prizes and we headed toward the door, I found myself wishing Chuck E. had come around. In that relative stillness, my son would’ve been receptive to the photo op. Still, no “eek!” is much better than too many.
Well played, mouse.