Sunday, May 25, 2008
Since Thursday at 12, I've been completely submerged in life with preschoolers. It's been non-stop painting, panting, chasing and zamboodeling. I know zamboodeling isn't really a word, but it sounds like how I feel when I'm with my kids. You know, kinds of up and down and all around. Strangely, I feel like over each day of the weekend so far I've been taking apart poor parenting decisions. Like, how is it that when we were leaving the carousel in Central Park, we had not only had ice cream (typical) but we'd also bought three balloons? I buy balloons about as often as I order orange juice in a restaurant. Which is to say never. But there I was, forking over singles for balloon after balloon. It all started with the face painting. Elliot wanted it, Helen not really. Then Helen saw the fireworks on Elliot's arm (he goes in for arm painting, actually), and she wanted some, too. But then the face painting lady was gone, but the balloon lady was still there. Down the slippery balloon slope we fell. All this to say, from now on, it's fcae painting only at the street fairs. We'll all be so much happier and have so many fewer balloons.