Question the Wisdom
Just as the burnout was kicking in, we brought The Boss to another children’s museum—our third in as many days. It was rainy and warm and sticky in New York, so a day at the Long Island Children’s Museum seemed like a good idea.
It must have been the same idea streaming through the minds of hundreds of other parents, because that place was packed. Strollers were double, triple, even quadruple parked along the walls. Kids were screaming everywhere. Too many adults hovered over the exhibits, making it difficult for children to access them.
I’ve got a fucking headache.
Here’s the truly awesome part: Membership at one museum can translate to free (or discounted) admission to others across the country. As members of the New York Hall of Science, we got into the Children’s Museum of Manhattan for free. Our membership benefits also extend to the Brooklyn Children’s Museum and the Staten Island Children’s Museum.
Both the New York Hall of Science and the Children’s Museum of Manhattan had wall-mounted ballet bars for babies on the verge of cruising. The Boss couldn’t get enough of it at the Hall of Science (above).
New York’s children’s museums are awesome, even for kids as young as my eight-month-old Boss. We spent Friday at the New York Hall of Science, which had a circus-themed exhibit for grade schoolers (above) and a preschool play area that The Boss absolutely loved. There was also an outdoor science playground that all of us enjoyed.
Then on Saturday, we visited the Children’s Museum of Manhattan. Its preschool play area was a hit with The Boss, but the “no strollers” policy meant Ron and I had to juggle The Boss, both diaper and camera bags, a contraband water bottle, teething toys and other necessities that we usually stow in the City Mini’s basket.
The fact that it’s perfectly legal in New York for a woman to expose her breasts in public has empowered me to nurse The Boss whenever and wherever necessary, without the irrational embarrassment associated with breastfeeding. I’m not sure which line in the Constitution supports this act (maybe this one), but I love it.
Happy Fourth of July!
892 notes (via neighborhoodr-newyork & jamiepeck)
When I first saw this headline, I assumed it meant bottled milk. Um, no. At any rate, kudos to the sister who can squirt with (and under) such pressure.
These days, The Boss insists on sampling everything I eat. The problem with that is I eat nothing but cheese sandwiches, baked Ruffles chips and Pepperidge Farms double-chocolate Milano cookies.
To keep The Boss on a healthy track, I’ve altered some of my eating habits to match hers. For lunch today, she and I shared steamed carrots seasoned with dill, steamed white rice, and two poached eggs (she had the yolks; I ate the whites). I call it baby food for adults.
Let’s see how long I can keep this up.
The Dog Whisperer would disagree with the way I handled the playground brat on Friday. He makes some good points in this response to fan mail, stuff that I’ll apply the next time The Boss and I are confronted with an unruly child.
Parenting lessons from “The Dog Whisperer”
nomadsoul said:
I never know how to respond when I encounter ill mannered kids at the playground. ESP when their parents say nothing!!
To be fair to these children, their parents (or caregivers) deserve all the blame. Playgrounds are not holding pens for kids to cut loose while Mommy, Daddy or Nanny yap on the cell phone. This lack of supervision deprives a child the opportunity to socialize positively with other children, and robs him or her of the caregiver’s love and attention.
So what to do when someone else’s kid is a brat? I don’t know. In the incident described, I bullied the boy because he bullied my kid, and immediately everything I ever learned from “The Dog Whisperer” about asserting dominance flooded my mind. Besides, his behavior ran longer than a supervising parent or caregiver would tolerate (that’s to say, he wasn’t supervised), and his nudging was escalating to shoving. So I gave him shhht.
If the boy hadn’t touched The Boss, or if his complacent caregiver were nearby, I might have responded differently. Who knows.
At the playground
- Three-year-old boy: (Nudges The Boss away from playground equipment)
- I wanna play here.
- Me: But she was here first. Would you mind sharing with her?
- Boy: But I'm playing here.
- Me: Why don't you share it with her.
- Boy: I'm playing here.
- Me: Oh, I see. You're a male chauvinist.
- Boy: (Looks up and sees my sneer, then runs away)
