Cold Spaghetti

A different venue for a walk.
Lake Shore Drive, on Lake Ponchartrain (more), New Orleans. More than 2 years later, most of the drive is still closed for repairs. The many children’s play areas, picnic areas, and the Mardi Gras Fountain are still not functional. But it is open for fishing and work is progressing.

The couple above was hoping for a big fish to cook “for the football game.”

Above, Dad reels one in with his son watching.

After school today, I took the kids to Nix Library to feed Will’s continuing space interest and see if we could find anything seasonal. Doing the stop with the kids was a little iffy — right after school they are coming down from a ton of stimulation, want snacks and drinks, and are generally pretty crazy. I had drinks and snacks for them in the car (a daily ritual) and decided to take a chance on the library.

What a surprise — Will could not have been a more perfect child. He was an absolute angel. He followed me around, pointed to books and asked if we could look at them (in a whisper!) before pulling them down, and then, after we collected a few, asked if he could go to a table and look at them. I literally was in complete awe of him.

Before you picture a serene experience, however, consider the “Law of the Conservation of Child Behavior.” This Law states that there must be a constant level of insanity in the lives of all parents. It means that if one child is behaving with utmost grace and poise, the other is pulling off their clothes and beating you on the head. It means that if one child is politely gazing at book shelves in the library, the other is gleefully pulling down all she can. This Law is particularly important to remember when one of those children is Kate. Not that she was disruptive. But she made it clear she wanted to look at books, thank you, and could do it All Her Self.

So Will went to sit and read his books. And, of course, Kate followed. But while Will got his books from the children’s nonfiction section, Kate picked out (as in selectively picked out) books in young adult fiction from the classics turnstile. She climbed up on a chair next to Will, two novels in her hands. I tried to give her a picture book in exchange, but she wanted none of it (as if! didn’t I see her pick these?!) She laid her books on the table, just like Will. And just like Will, “read” them one at a time. Pausing thoughtfully a different points and flipping through others with speed. Her books? Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence and Kate Chopin’s The Awakening.

Will’s post-dinner activity with Mom: Halloween crafts. We hung them on the front door. Although the photo quality limits enjoyment of it in this view, my favorite part is how Will drew the witch’s “straight teeth”.

Audubon Park, Saturday morning.

Movie trailers lined up on St. Charles Avenue at the top of the park, in front of Loyola and Tulane’s main campuses.

The fountain.
Vignettes.

Favorite moments from the walk, below.

While a wedding progressed in the trees behind them…
The kids met Elvis. A very senior ferret (8 years old) owned by friend and fellow juggler, Sam. Although Kate did try to push him back in his box with the carrier door, the kids were basically gentle with Elvis and admired him carefully.
Kate was much more interested in Elvis than Will. Although both seemed to agree: Elvis asleep was much more interesting that Dad juggling.
Even when he juggled with knives. Paul tells me these photographs will come in handy if I ever need a restraining order.
See? Kate is more interested in Elvis (whom she called “gato”) than in the knife her father is holding mere inches from her head. It’s those little details that make us such quality parents.
After awhile, Will decided to try a Tarzan routine on the low-hanging branches. Didn’t work so well for him. Even with Kate around to give him a boost. (Monkey see, monkey do.)

We have gotten back to morning walks and took an extra-specially long and leisurely one Saturday morning. With such adventure!
After the thrill of seeing a test streetcar back on the fixed trolley lines, we moseyed down to the waterside of Audubon Park where the ducks were gathered. A LOT of them. Squawking away at each other as if in attendance at a duck-society meeting.
We unleashed the kids on them just as this fellow (above) rode up with bags and bags of BREAD (he said it was leftover from his work last night) — big crusty bread. He threw some out and then gave the bags to the kids. Thank you!
It took a good half-hour for the Small Ones to unload the bread. Will had them eating out of his hand (sort of — see above). Kate had a more, well, Kate-method. She grabbed handfuls, ran in the middle of the ducks causing them to scatter in panic and then threw the bread — not really at them, more towards her feet — and then ran back to the bag to repeat the process.
Will helped her on the finer points of duck-feeding.

A few went to the water to drink after all the excitement. The kids thought this was great, although Will had a lot to say about the dangers of drinking green water. (“It’s not like Kool-Aid, right, Mommy?“)
Here’s Kate and the ducks.
It was shortly after this picture that we looked down the path and saw hundreds upon hundreds of people descending towards us… the American Cancer Society’s Breast Cancer Walk! It was Saturday morning! And we were right in the middle of it! (Now all the pink signs were making sense.) Paul walked in advance of the crowd, taking the kids up to the playground at St. Charles… I hung around for the photographic opportunities. (More on this, later.)

M: “Will, why are you biting your nails?”

W: “I had to peel back the skin so that… so that… the caterpillar wouldn’t know that I’m in The Incredible Movie.”

M: (repeating) “Help me understand you. You are biting your nails so that a caterpillar wouldn’t know you are in The Incredibles movie?”

W: “No. Uh-huh. I peeled back the skin so that I could be super-fast!”

M: “Hold that thought. I need a piece of a paper to write this down.”

Trying on their costumes directly over their pajamas.
Will: Peter Pan.

Kate: Tinker Bell.

Me & Paul: Wendy and Captain Hook. Paul and I probably won’t be in costume until Mardi Gras (we’ll hit the post-Halloween sales for costumes.) Will says I’ll have to be “tied to a pole” if I’m Wendy… something Paul finds particularly funny.

How long before he doesn’t want to sing a bedtime song?
How long before he doesn’t want a story?
How long before he doesn’t beg for cuddles, refuses my kisses, and pulls back from my hugs?

How long before those clear blue eyes deepen into a person who slips out of my life and into his own?

—-

Will was thrilled with tonight’s post-dinner activities, which included art projects and baking. Because it was quick and easy, I chose this recipe:

Nothing particularly revolutionary about it, but Will was thrilled. THRILLED. Watched them brown and rise through the oven door with the attentiveness of a child looking for Santa to come down the chimney.

Recent Will-isms, inspired (unwittingly) by his parents:

“Mommy, if you don’t stay and cuddle with me, my head will explode.”

“I want to play my guitar like a ROCKET STAR!”