Lil’ monkey’s first Steam Train ride. Can you tell?
Our Baba’s day this year was nothing if not a sign of parental arrival. Half of the events of the day were exactly the stuff of my dreams, pre-parenthood: kids bringing me a breakfast tray in bed; my making pancakes for ’em; us going for a hike and a picnic in my favorite local park; kids thrilled beyond comprehension at their first Steam Train ride, etc..
The other half of the day’s events were the stuff of my pre-parental nightmares: kids mauling said breakfast tray, essentially making peaceful eating impossible; yet another Sunday New York Times barely peeked at*, due to sheer impossibility of that much uninterrupted time; hike and picnic in favorite local park cut short by chill winds and slipping and falling and tired kids; littler kid turning pale, then green, on the winding car ride back from the hike; big kid pelting littler kid in the back seat, perhaps for no better reason than she was tired and hungry — remember picnic lunch cut short? — and he was strapped in and feeble from carsickness; littler kid hurling on Mama just as she removes him from the vehicle.