Mainly a bust

So for the past couple of years I've heard about this even at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts/Children's Theater called Rock the Cradle. Put on by the Current (good). Music, art, kids. Sounds great.

Yeah, well a gazillion other people also think so. I was ready to leave almost immediately to escape the throngs of people, but we stayed long enough to check things out a "couple bit*".

A volunteer overheard me asking the kids if I could take their picture in front of the cars. She offered to take a photo of us all. Despite the whiny and nasal barely understandable "no, I don't wanna take a picture", we got one.

View from Roman's height.

And yes, like Star Wars, cars are EVERYWHERE little guy.

See?!

This was one of those days that I bet the employees dread. While standing here for about two minutes I saw several kids either violate the string "fence" or GASP! touch the car.

I guess it's par for the course.

And so is checking out the paintings with your Daddy.

Score one for art appreciation.

Writing on the canvas, indeed.

*thanks Roman for the new vocab in our lives.

Thanks Grandma

So at dinner I was remarking to your Dad how your minds are like wide open  mostly blank canvases, just waiting to be written on. The other day Zoe said something to me that illustrated this. Don't ask me what it was, but it related back to some experience she had with something new. She had to repeat back what she experienced and confirm the validity of it. "Polar Bears like to play with barrels". Something like that. Blank Slate. Whereas I was thinking that I actually like being older because it feels like I have some perspective on things. It's not ALL new. And I kind of enjoy the really odd connections my brain sometimes makes. I was scrolling quickly on my keyboard at work and it made this soft clicking sound which somehow got me thinking of the song "Jingle Bells". Why? Why not. The mind is an interesting thing. And, mind you, it can sometimes be brutal. But I'm not there now. 

At any rate, your Dad made us burritos for dinner. I cut open an avocado  and took half of it to the dining room to share with the Zoe-meister. She likes avocado. Good girl. We were all done and Zoe left the room and came back with a handful of something. It took me a second to figure out what it was.

 "Give this to the squirrel". 

What?

"Give this to the squirrel"

 She'd dug the pit out of the other half of the avocado.

ARGH. The other week when we were at grandma's house she had taken an avocado pit and walked it out to her deck and left it "for the squirrels". I have to admit I found it a little odd at the time, but whatever.

Well you were watching, you were writing on the canvas (so to speak).