Central Park is the perfect classroom in all seasons.
We set out late afternoon to uncoop the kids. Originally the plan was to just go to the playground. As we were going through the gate we were were hustled by a Good Morning, America cameraman /intern who needed clips of kids and their parents talking about the new year and resolutions. I told him that we were not having a camera-ready day and actually pointed out a much better looking family for him to chase down. He looked at me like I was a nutter. Finally, I told him that I would ask my moppets, so I called them over and gave them the choice. The Boy shrugged and said, "Sure." The Girl looked at me like I was a nutter and said, "Why would I?" The cameraman decided that one out of three was better than nothing and so it began...
"What do you hope will happen in the new year?"
"That I'll get a chicken."
"Say: 'In the new year I hope that I'll get a chicken.'"
"In the new year I hope that I will get a chicken."
"Why?"
"Because they are my favorite animal."
"What is your resolution for the new year?"
[Aside to me: "What's a resolution?"
"Something that you hope to do better."]
"I hope to do better at math."
"Say that your new year's resolution is to do better at math."
"My new year's resolution is to do better at math."
The thing is, this isn't the first time we've played this game. Last year the same thing went down: The Girl said no way, The Boy said okay and the next thing you know the kid has a camera pointed at him and he's giving it the ol' college try with his very cute smile and saying completely random things. That time the questions were about President Obama and the question and answer that we laughed about all the way home was:
"What do you know about The White House."
[Note: I thought he was going to knock this out of the park because of all the details he noticed and talked incessantly about after we took a tour.]
"It's big... and it's white."
That time he was such a good sport as we laughed and laughed and through his giggles he said so cute: "I sounded like an idiot!"
Today after the cameraman cleared out he asked how he did. I said something about how it was great. As a joke I said that maybe hoping for world peace would have been good, too. He went and played and came back over to me ten minutes later:
"World peace would have been good, but everybody probably says that. And I really do want a chicken."
"Then that was the perfect answer."
Sometimes I forget how much our comments and approval mean.
The playground experience wasn't meant to be for some reason today. It felt flat for all of us, and the late afternoon light was perfect, so we wandered. The kids each gave $1 to the man playing Christmas carols on his saxophone and he was really great and stopped and took his gloves off to give them each a high five and thank them. We thanked him for playing -- there are few things that are better than a good street musician. And then I guess once his gloves were off he decided to take a break, and as we walked away down the now-silent path my ever-astute girl-child said, "I guess we shouldn't have paid him. Now he's not playing."
We opened pods.
We walked around The Pond and found, for the first time a little built-in model of The Pond.
With no homework to hold us hostage we enjoyed the park. The only very-minor issue was that the elastic in the waistband of my tights died an honorable death, and in so doing created the need for me to do strange wiggles and hoistings in order to get them back up and over (as opposed to off, under, and heading for my ankles). The person painted and draped to look like the Statue of Liberty got to witness the wrasslin' match. Your huddled masses yearning to be free took on a whole new meaning, I'm sure.
In the mail today came The Girl's Web Ranger patch.
I hope that they are always people who enjoy learning about and being in nature/outside. I hope that if Judd the Red Chicken ever gets himself a chicken that that chicken treats him right. I hope that I never have to walk home with broken tights sans long puffy coat -- that's the only thing that stood between me and a walk-of-shame past the doormen.
