May I tell you something--raw juvenile nostalgia isn't always the best perspective to bring to the table. Other than the bumper boats (you're talking about the ones below the pods, right?), none of those were "original" OP features, they were features added on to "justify" the place as a public facility. They could have been anyplace. Even your use of the term "theme park" reflects a skewed notion of the role OP played (and disregards the fact that the term "theme park" has often been a *negative* metaphor in architectural and planning terms). Maybe it's what you remember fondly; but it's also a reminder of how too many eggs in the fondly-remembered-childhood basket can be a formula for civic philistinism, because of some absent-mindedly patronizing notion that kids are generally too young and too blissfully ignorant to know any better. (Which reminds me of how in my erstwhile garage-sale ventures w/my mother, our rule of thumb tended to be to avoid any house with a whole lot of 80s-onward toys and "kid's stuff" Like, the contemporary "kid-o-sphere" being an alibi for so much plastic kitsch and junk, it's not funny.)
Now, if we're going to go into "10-year-old perspectives", I knew OP in the beginning. In many ways, what it offered in the beginning would seem thin gruel for the young visitor--not much more than a picturesque park to promenade in, pods to promenade up and down and across, pavilions w/so-so carny food and carbonated beverages, bumper boats and stuff, the Forum, and "North Of Superior" at the Cinesphere. Yet for all the prosaic offerings, something felt "worth the childhood visit"--the architectural ooh and aah, the roaming around the Hough landscape, or past the yachts and to the end of the long pier. Though maybe a bit "is that it?" after a couple of visits, unless one was going to a Forum show. But still, one might say that I could intuit the "Zeidler magic" even if I was too young to know who Zeidler was.
But the next year, it had something kid-friendly added--the original Children's Village, which was much more "integral" to the original vision (i.e. at that juncture, you couldn't imagine it anyplace *other* than Ontario Place; it really did feel like an extension of the layout, and the "vibe").
The year after *that*, though (or was it two years, can't recall), Children's Village added the water attractions. Which I never warmed to, mainly because I wasn't into the youthful hassle of changing in and out of bathing suits--but maybe that says something deeper, because water-park attractions do tend to be standalone by their nature, they're not as "come as you are". They're the narcissistic stuff of the proverbial Mt Splashmore or more mercenary "Action Park" affairs. They don't quite feel like "civic benefits" except by proxy.
And in due time, the compartmentalized splashiness of the water attractions came to overshadow the post-hippie dustiness of the original Children's Village. And in effect, the "theme parking" of OP began there, for better or worse.
Unfortunately, there's some casual notion out there that's been baked in over the past few decades that kids should *only* exist, and grow up within, an insulated kid-o-sphere, and the big non-kid outside world ought to be helicopter-parented away. Like the notion of their sitting at any kind of figurative "adult table"--or be witness to and fascinated by a world beyond their own kid-o-sphere--opens them up to "harmful contaminants"; or maybe just traumatizes and upsets them.
But here's a pre-Ontario Place anecdote of my own. As a young child, I lived off Roncesvalles--and even when we moved away, my grandparents still lived off Roncesvalles. And as a young child, I liked to go to High Park, to the playground, to the zoo.
Emphasis on the "go to" part. That is, I liked the *process* of going to the playground and the zoo, the walk down High Park Blvd, etc. I took pleasure in the connective fabric, the ritual passage, the world beyond myself. It wasn't just about the coordinates of the playground and the zoo; it was also about the connective fabric, and the awareness of infinite fabric beyond--park trails to explore, nooks and crannies to explore, etc. It was all about the symbiosis, about being fascinated by how it was all put together. The kid stuff could allow me to be a kid; the stuff beyond could enable a kid to be wise beyond one's years, and the two existed in a fine balance.
It was that same symbiosis that made a youthful family shopping trip to Loblaws & Towers as satisfying as one to High Park (and even when it was by car, looking out the window). And it was that same symbiosis that made a trip to Ontario Place pleasurable even when its kid offerings were more limited.
But once *everything*, positive-memory-wise, is front-loaded upon the log flume, the "atom blaster building", the bumper boats...it's a meagre thing.
As a kid, I can say that I "got Zeidler and Hough", much as I "got John Howard" in High Park, even if it was simply by osmosis. But I don't get the impression that you did...