Small Wonders: Here's what happened in Las Vegas

But taking cabs doesn't mean you're not going to have endless walks in order to see the many fascinating sights. In the marathon from the monorail station to Circus Circus, Thing 2 mused about her expectations for the most family friendly resort in town.

“I hope there are no creepy clowns and blood everywhere,” she said as we approached the time-worn big top.

“Me too,” I told her, suddenly scared.

No murderous clowns were found, but there were plenty of money-sucking games and rides operated by permanently employed carnies.

Whether on the Strip or through the many casinos, you're forced to walk in order to get to the family entertainment, and yet it never ceases to amaze me how oblivious tourists are to the other people around them. When masses of humanity converge, the ability to see one another miraculously disappears.

Simply walking through the casino with a 10- and 8-year old, fielding their many questions is entertainment in itself.

“Why do people gamble?”

“Why is that lady dancing in her bikini on top of those machines?”

“Should I double-down on 14 if the dealer shows a seven?”

It's never too early to teach kids the basics. I'm just preparing them for middle school.

“This place smells like smoke and desperation,” Thing 1 observed while playing penny slots at the Flamingo.

Wise beyond her years.

But we wanted to ensure our daughters would never get sucked into the abyss of the gambling culture. So, for aversion therapy, we took them downtown, the last stop in a gambler's long, hard life.

Despite the work done to Fremont Street, downtown really is no place for kids, save for one thing: the zip line. And it was worth the taxi ride, unseemly shops and recently released convicts thereabouts, just to see mom and daughter screaming overhead in a 30-second thrill ride.

We saw the water show at Bellagio 10 times while dining alfresco at a Paris bistro; we rode a gondola through the faux canals of Venice; we witnessed a volcano erupt outside our taxi window.

Frankly, the only thing I wish hadn't stayed in Vegas was our hard-earned cash.

PATRICK CANEDAY is author of “Crooked Little Birdhouse” available on Amazon. Reach him at patrickcaneday@gmail.com. Read more at www.patrickcaneday.com.