"If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in."
-- Rachel Louise Carson
-- Rachel Louise Carson
Wednesdays is open play at the local kiddie gym, and we like to go with Malena's friend Maya. Maya's mom is super cool, and Maya and Malena share a deep love of each other and All Things Pink.
PEEEEEENK!!!!!
They love pink. I have no idea where she gets that from. Her father, maybe.
We spent an hour jumping and sliding and hopping and swinging, and then decided to get something to eat at a nearby restaurant, where they had kid's facepainting on Wednesday nights. Maya's mom knows these things. I only know when there are hurricane warnings in the Caribbean or Gordon Ramsey's on TV. We wound up in a scattered group of 10-15 people, and Malena and I were the only non-Israelis. Actually, that may not be true. There were a couple of moms that I spoke Spanish with, but they happened to speak fluent Hebrew as well. So maybe we were the only non-Hebrew speakers. But I swear, after a while, you really think you're understanding what's being said. I think they just gesture a lot.
There were babies, babies, everywhere. Maya and Malena both wanted their faces painted as pink tigers. They sat with each other and chatted like old ladies and hopped up and down on the seats. I don't think Malena actually ate anything. They also got balloons. The four of us stopped off at a puppy store to look at the puppies, but I always think a stop like that is more depressing than happy.
When Malena and I finally got in the car, it was almost 9pm. She was cranky, and I was tired and thinking about some reports I still needed to run, but she has so much fun with Maya that it's all worth it.
We pulled onto the highway, I turned on the radio, and since it's 80 degrees out, pushed the button to open the sunroof. I heard a small scream and turned to see Malena holding a limp string tied to her wrist.
Shit, I forgot about the balloon. It was gone. The tears were streaming down her pink tigery face. I'm usually the staid defender of my child's universe, but that really was a mommy blonde moment. I apologized a million times.
"But Mommy!" she screamed. "Why did you open the sunroof??"
"Because Mommy is a moron", I explained. "Can we go get you another one? Please?"
And that is how I wound up at the supermarket at 9:30pm on a weekday with a tear-streaked three-year old in the middle of my own insomnia phase.
I may never sleep again.
But at least my baby is happy. (cough. cough. thunk.)
PEEEEEENK!!!!!
They love pink. I have no idea where she gets that from. Her father, maybe.
We spent an hour jumping and sliding and hopping and swinging, and then decided to get something to eat at a nearby restaurant, where they had kid's facepainting on Wednesday nights. Maya's mom knows these things. I only know when there are hurricane warnings in the Caribbean or Gordon Ramsey's on TV. We wound up in a scattered group of 10-15 people, and Malena and I were the only non-Israelis. Actually, that may not be true. There were a couple of moms that I spoke Spanish with, but they happened to speak fluent Hebrew as well. So maybe we were the only non-Hebrew speakers. But I swear, after a while, you really think you're understanding what's being said. I think they just gesture a lot.
There were babies, babies, everywhere. Maya and Malena both wanted their faces painted as pink tigers. They sat with each other and chatted like old ladies and hopped up and down on the seats. I don't think Malena actually ate anything. They also got balloons. The four of us stopped off at a puppy store to look at the puppies, but I always think a stop like that is more depressing than happy.
When Malena and I finally got in the car, it was almost 9pm. She was cranky, and I was tired and thinking about some reports I still needed to run, but she has so much fun with Maya that it's all worth it.
We pulled onto the highway, I turned on the radio, and since it's 80 degrees out, pushed the button to open the sunroof. I heard a small scream and turned to see Malena holding a limp string tied to her wrist.
Shit, I forgot about the balloon. It was gone. The tears were streaming down her pink tigery face. I'm usually the staid defender of my child's universe, but that really was a mommy blonde moment. I apologized a million times.
"But Mommy!" she screamed. "Why did you open the sunroof??"
"Because Mommy is a moron", I explained. "Can we go get you another one? Please?"
And that is how I wound up at the supermarket at 9:30pm on a weekday with a tear-streaked three-year old in the middle of my own insomnia phase.
I may never sleep again.
But at least my baby is happy. (cough. cough. thunk.)
3 comments:
Poor Malena.
You horrible balloon killer, you!
J/K I haven't done that yet. My time is coming.
You're such a good Momma!
I bet the second balloon was much better than the first anyways!
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