Life in the Big City

I can relate to Oscar the Grouch. He lives in a garbage can and decided to embrace his environ-ment and therefore loves garbage. New York, my parents tell me, is much cleaner than it used to be, but it definitely is not San Diego. I am comfortable in garbage and could see myself spending a few night in the Duane Reade.

Maybe I've been spending too much time with Emma at, as she likes to call it, the Duane Reade.

Trains

I enjoy building train tracks. I tried building a subway but my mom and dad said subways are underground and we live on the third floor, so at best I would build a train tunneling through our grumpy neighbors underneaths apartment.

Shopping in Ikea, I was perplexed. Should I buy a toy traditionally thought of as something for boys, trains, for Emma. Or, are there no longer boy toys slash girl toys. Right now it's a unisex world for toddlers, so I'm leaving all doors open and all trunks unlocked. (Do those metaphors perplex you as much as they do me?)

Children's Museum

Why do they call it a museum? It's an awesome place with green hippos, Dora the Explora and TVs that sing. I was at an adult museum, where they had bones of old animals and stuffed beasts and giants minerals and dusty coffins. A children's museum should have really old children's shoes, prehistoric cribs, the first McClaren ever made. We could see the first mommy giving birth, the first stork. Museum curators, board of directors, let's name museums for what they are and the Children's Museum on 83rd Street is simply the Chill/Bug-out Museum.

It's true. Emma has a fair point.
Maybe the word Museum is a word whose time has past.
Maybe next time we'll see what's happening at MOMA.

Potty Time

I had to go and I went. Watch out world.

It was as if the sea parted and all the parents and grand parents through history walked through the great sea walls. It was a mighty miracle as my wife and I saw Emma plop herself on the potty. I'd like to say we convinced, cojolled or begged her to go to the next developmental stage, but really, it was Elmo's Potty time DVD. Emma decided if the potty was good enough for Elmo, it was good enough for her.

Problems/Solutions in San Diego

My parents finally took me to the San Diego Zoo. There are no pictures because daddy forgot to put a digital disk in the camera.
“My dream of having photos at a zoo is shot,” says mommy. Daddy pulled out a hand held digital video and begged for mercy.
The monkeys taught me lessons on how to get what I want, just swing from a vine and attack. The hippos taught me how to truly enjoy a poop. Hippo poop is as big as our luggage. The turtles stretch their necks out really far, so they can see beyond their opaque shells. I wonder if I live in a zoo. I sleep in a caged crib. Deep thoughts...

Things you have to do with your kids, Lego Land, Disney Land, Sea World, and the Zoo. There is this precipice of parental have to-dos past down from locals, travel agents and in-laws. Over come perils: dropped off mommy and baby and stroller and then parked the car two light years away, and met them,carried the baby up steep hills, entertained on line to see Panda, sippee cups, cookies, diaper bag, stroller.
Lesson, always check batteries are charged, memory disks empty and in place, to avoid scorn of wife. The digital camera wasn’t “Honey, I’ll shoot some fantastic video.” The battery symbol on the video monitor had a slash through its center. I didn't tell my wife, and like the lights of Chanukah, was able to shoot a video on empty.
I was really like all the man strives to be in extreme crisis. I accept the citizen of the day award. Thank-you.