On August 4th, 2009, Adayah, Nayezca (making one of her summer cameos), and I went to an internet-ordained minister named Seth’s new apartment to eat lunch and to be holier-than-TV for a few hours. In the time since our last entry (longer than usual due to a week of vacation in Idaho for Daddy followed by a painful week of reintegration/She-who-must-not-be-named withdrawal), Adayah has become a full-fledged walker and I’ve become a full-fledged fat ass. I’m hoping that the weight I’ve gained from the start of parenthood will quickly disappear as I chase Adayah for the next 16 years (plus I’ve really bit the bullet and joined one of those 24 Hour Fitness Lite gyms in the hope that I can look happy and peaceful like the people on the posters inside the place. I’m the shadow of the man I once was). As Adayah finds glee in her newfound mobility, I find fear around every corner. I’m convinced that every corner of every piece of furniture is cosmically drawn to Adayah’s orbital socket. For someone genetically predisposed to anxiety, this whole walking thing really sucks. I’m longing for the days when Adayah couldn’t support her own head. To make matters worse, Adayah is a brute of sorts. Don’t be deceived by her angelic appearance and extra-cuddly façade; she has a penchant from grabbing living things (people and pets) by their facial extremities (ears, nose, hair, etc.) and pulling. What it means is that at any given moment she could be performing an ad-hoc lobotomy to our dog, our cat, her sister, or another baby. Most parents don’t take too kindly to that and I have to give them the fake parent smile (you know, the one that looks like you’re sorry but inside you’re thinking that her child is a demon-in-hiding so don’t get mad that my kid just punked your kid, fool) as I wrench their child’s ear lobe from Adayah’s death grip.
On the bright side, in this world of grab-ear or have-your-ear-grabbed, my daughter is on the winning team.
1. Fun for baby. On the surface, a visit to Seth’s apartment does not seem like a great way to spend a few hours with a one-year old. Especially when the apartment is not fully moved-into, it’s very baby-unfriendly, and there are two guys from Comcast setting up internet (just internet. Seth doesn’t believe in TV. I think that’s like someone saying they don’t believe in gravity. Whatever). I was prepared for a tantrum, an injury, and the end of my friendship with the person who stood strong by side in 11th grade while Peter Fisher stole my biology notebook and drew ejaculating penises all over it.
What ended up happening was incredible. We arrived, walked up a treacherous back staircase, and immediately Adayah started having a blast. She loved navigating herself between the boxes, looking into them, looking at the two lizards Seth has, climbing on his couch, playing on his bed, and especially playing with her sister in and around Seth’s closet, which has a giant rotating door that provided about 30 minutes of entertainment itself. Adayah spent a considerable amount of time going in circles about the house (with me following her to ward off evil-doing-90-degree angles), closing the bathroom door, and peering into the room where the Comcast folks were. Its incredible how the most mundane things in the world are a blast for babies.
Lunchtime came, and Seth was kind enough to prepare food for us. He provided us purple bread with walnuts in it, cheese, blueberries, greens, chips, hot salsa, and leftover tofu and vegetables. Adayah loved the chips and, mostly, the food I brought for her. I think its fair to say Seth is not ready to have kids. The most compelling evidence for this claim was when Nayezca was eating the leftover tofu and vegetables and all of a sudden spit up a mouthful of food and water back onto the plate. Seth forgot to mention that he put a jalapeno in the dish.
After lunch, a local transient named Oren stopped by and we chatted. That basically ended our time at Chez Seth. Going into the outing, I was concerned that a visit with my friend would be less than exciting for Adayah (Nayezca is now at a point where she can hang in non-kid-friendly environments). I was amazed that we spent two hours at Seth’s house and Adayah couldn’t get enough of it. I’m inclined to think that mostly it was the newness of everything: new furniture to play with, a new couch to sit on, a new bed to play on, new routes to navigate through boxes, new internet, and new closet with a giant revolving door.
Overall score: 9. Adayah was thrilled, which is kind of the point of this whole thing in the first place.
2. Fun for Dad. Well, this category really isn’t too fair. Seth married me (no, he presided over my wedding), so of course I had a great time catching up with a dear friend. For this category, I’ll do my best to evaluate it as if a stranger were taking his/her child to Seth’s for an outing (keeping with the spirit of the blog).
Seth is an interesting character. He used to lick lichen, but now he is the proud owner of a master’s degree in public health and he’s working on his PhD at UC Berkeley. The point is that discussions with Seth sometimes go academic and reference obscure pieces of research that he is doing or that he read about. So, if a random Dad was into things like learning about weird disease causing mollusks in a lake in China, Seth is your guy. Seth has also mastered computer shortcuts, so if a random Dad was into things like “Alt-F4”, Seth is, again, your guy.
This isn’t to say that Seth is some academic wackjob. He’s a genuinely good guy, he can hold a conversation, he has strong morals, he’s a great athlete, and he’s great with kids. Ok, one of those was a lie, but I won’t tell you which one. He cooks healthy food that usually tastes good, and he has a penchant for trying exotic things (read: weird fungus). So, a random Dad should fair fine hanging with Seth for an afternoon.
Overall score: 3. Who are we kidding here? How fun would it be to hang out with a random stranger in his apartment while your baby paces compulsively around a revolving door? Sorry Seth, nothing personal.
3. Cash Money. Free! This entire trip was free. No cover, free food, and I’m sure Seth would have given me a free drink of nice rum if I’d asked him (the thought crossed my mind). What’s more, I’m sure the trip would be free for a stranger, too.
Overall score: 9. If I were a random Dad and I spent an afternoon at Seth’s with my baby and he fed me and gave me free drink, I might think Seth is trying to seduce me. Which might be totally cool for the right Dad.
4. Transportation. Seth’s apartment is “near” Telegraph Ave. and 62nd St. in North Oakland. The 1 and 1R bus go down Telegraph, and the 7, 9, 18, 51, and E buses all go within 5 blocks. Finally, Seth’s apartment is 6 blocks walking from Rockridge BART. We drove, and there is ample street parking, for free.
Overall score: 9. Pretty easy.
5. Morality Content. Let’s focus on the whole Seth hates TV thing. It’s quite a double-edged sword. There is scientific consensus that TV is bad for kids, and doctors recommend to never have kids under 2 watch TV because its screws with their brain development. So, on the surface, it would seem that a visit to Seth’s would provide a baby with the proper moral compass regarding the role of TV in a baby’s life and development. However, the moral impression a place leaves on a child is not just limited to the present, but extends far into the future. As Adayah grows up and makes more visits to Seth’s apartment, what messages will it give her that TV is wrong (or, worse, that TV is non-existent)? And how will this message be juxtaposed against her father who replays mundane events in sports on his TV just to watch blades of glass get sliced by a 5-iron because its “really cool”? I’m afraid that if Adayah internalizes Seth’s moral stance on TV, she will become brilliant in the short term (a plus) but will think her father is a brain-dead sheep (a negative).
Overall score: 3. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Seth drive a wedge between Adayah and I.
6. The “X” Factor. At any for-baby place you take a baby to, you expect the people to be nice. After all, if you took your baby to a baby place and got treatment like you were at Kaiser, something would be awry. At a person’s house, however, all bets are off. Some people love babies and are warm and loving with them. Other people see babies as walking land mines and freak out around them. Others are warm and loving but gaze into a baby’s eyes and speak in the baby voice (weird intonations, random varying pitch, long and slow syllables, speaking in the third person). Then there are those that try to reason with babies like they have fully developed brains. Finally, there are people who pretend the baby isn’t even there. To his credit, Seth embodies many of the positive characteristics for people when they interact with babies. He’s warm, loving, and doesn’t turn into a freak. He even keeps the same voice. Quite impressive for someone with no children (that we know of)!
Overall score: 9. Come to think of it, very impressive. Good work, Seth Shonkoff!
Final score: 42.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Adventure #3, IKEA Emeryville
On July 6th, 2009, Adayah and I braved the wilds of IKEA in search of a bedside table, a better understanding of how IKEA names its furniture, and eternal happiness. Unfortunately, we came up empty. Fortunately, we did have a fascinating trip into the belly of the beast. For the sake of transparency, its only fair to let you know that the day before this Daddy Day Care Adventure, our whole family unit (me, Adayah, Nayezca, and She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) took a trip to IKEA in search of a new children’s bed. It was lovely (and by lovely I mean I would rather have someone kick me in the balls with steel-toed boots before I ever go to IKEA on the weekend again). I had a meltdown. Seriously, I felt like a two year old. Instantly I created a fight with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I started shaking bunk beds under the pretense that I wanted to see how sturdy they were but knowing I was visualizing shaking people. I sent a text to a friend saying I was on the brink of tears. I alienated my whole family from me. I was entirely disrespectful to some guy in the loading area who tried to help me load furniture into my car. It was awful. It was an emotional train-wreck; the kind of train-wreck where the track is shut down for weeks while investigators sift through the rubble. The worst part was that I couldn’t help it. It was an out of body experience; I watched myself morph into a monster for two hours and couldn’t do anything to change it. And you know what the kicker is, after having reflected on the trip and having some space to think about it? I still assume no responsibility for this. Totally not my fault. Obviously, I’m not particularly proud of the whole incident, but if Dan White can get away with murder because he ate Twinkies, I think I can get away with acting like a two-year old because I entered IKEA on a Sunday. Did I mention I voluntary went back less than 24 hours after, what from where on out will only be referred to as, “The Incident”?
Sigh…
1. Fun For Baby. We arrived at 9:45, which was, in fact, early, given that IKEA doesn’t open until 10. However, they do open the restaurant at 9:30, so Adayah and I shared a breakfast of bad coffee, Swedish pancakes (read: crepes folded into quarters) with dingleberries (lingerberries?), and ice water. Adayah enjoyed the grub and I enjoyed the relative serenity of an almost empty IKEA. We took in the views from the restaurant and pointed together at semis as they came down the connector from I-880 to I-80. She seemed content, even with the over anxious shoppers ogling her (going out in public with a cute baby is about as close as I’ll ever get to celebrity. Everywhere you go people fawn over you, or, in this case, the baby. Its really quite an experience, I think I’ll keep having babies until I’m well into my 60s).
As the store officially opened, I had to wrench the water away from Adayah (as noted in earlier blog entries, her kryptonite) so we could look at glamorous pieces of particleboard. We mazed our way through the upstairs display areas, stopping only at places where I remembered the “Incident”. Because the store was practically empty, and because I didn’t want to have an episode of PTSD, we went quickly. Adayah was entertained when I had a moment looking at different bedside tables and ended up slipping back into that dangerous, dark place that preceded the “Incident”.
As we ended the labyrinth of the upstairs floor, we arrived at the kids’ area, which includes toddler beds (stupid), lacy hanging things (more stupid), and toys (usually stupid). In the spirit of being a “good dad”, we stopped in this area for quite some time so that Adayah could play with the toys. As far as I was concerned, this was fine. Especially because she had blast. She played and climbed and walked and picked random things up and put them back into different places and smiled the whole time. She didn’t get fazed when some 3-year old psycho took a toy from her, and she even tried to share with that same demon a few minutes later. Best of all, she was walking all over the place (major milestone? Check).
Overall score: 9. Lots of toys, lots of smiles, no injuries.
2. Fun for Dad. Considering I had a meltdown the previous day, I’m not sure how to objectively evaluate my own experience in IKEA that morning. Adayah had a great time, which is a plus. I didn’t throw a temper-tantrum; also a plus. She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not served me with divorce papers yet; big-time plus.
Overall score: 10. Let’s be clear, this is an extremely skewed score. Normally, I wouldn’t set the bar so low that the absence of bad deserves a perfect score, but considering the location of this adventure, I feel comfortable giving IKEA a 10.
3. Cash Money. Operating under the assumption that you are going to IKEA as a recreational outing for your child, IKEA is a cheap trip. Entrance is free, parking is free, food is incredibly cheap ($1.49 for pancakes and coffee? More on this later), and you can stay as long as you want. Brilliant! I think I’ll start going on many more outings with Adayah to corporate shitholes.
Unfortunately, once you are in IKEA, you put yourself at extremely high risk of buying things you don’t need. Even if you only go to watch your child play. You see, Adayah was having such a good time with this one toy that I ended up buying it. It only cost $7.99, which isn’t bad, but you can see how a once free outing can get nasty quick. And then she loved this 3-pack of bouncy balls, so I got that, too ($.99). It’s really bad when your child toys with your desire for her to be a professional athlete. Adayah could point to almost anything sports related and I’d probably buy it for her, rationalizing to myself that the payoff will come later. What’s worse is that you could go into IKEA, play for an hour, and leave with a $300 table that you’ll spend 8 hours putting together.
Overall score: 5. The fact that you need nerves of steel to leave without spending anything is not a positive attribute.
4. Transportation. Very easily accessible by car. The AC Transit #57 bus goes right by. In addition, there is an Emery-Go-Round shuttle, which is free (lines P, BS, CS). Emery-Go-Round serves MacArthur BART and other exciting locales in Emeryville such as Chevy’s, Old Navy, the Oaks Card Club, and the abandoned building formerly known as Circuit City.
Overall score: 8. I’d love to hear a firsthand account from someone who has actually ridden the Emery-Go-Round aside from my friend Josh.
5. Morality Content. In the fleeting moments that I wasn’t overprotectively guarding Adayah from imminent death at the hands of a Swedish-designed toy made in Vietnam, I used my time there to partake in some high-quality people watching. Throngs of people passed through IKEA, and most of them were happy! Happy to be spending their money on what everyone knows to be faux-furniture. I don’t particularly have a problem with feeling happy about buying something and I sure won’t sit here and claim to be above that. However, I like to think that when I’m happy about buying something, I’m actually excited to own the product and have faith that I’m purchasing a good (or at least decent) product. When I buy from IKEA, however, I feel quite the opposite, more like I’m looking at myself in the prison mirror and admitting that I’ve got no shot at outmaneuvering Tiny (read: buying nice furniture) so I might as well give up and get it over with without a fight (read: going to IKEA). To bring this diatribe back to the realities of Daddy Day Care, what values and morals will Adayah learn by spending time at IKEA? That we should be excited about buying shit? (note: in all fairness, IKEA should only assume partial blame for this phenomenon. Our consumption-based mentality surely shoulders some responsibility) Sorry, I don’t want Adayah growing up to excited about shit.
Overall score: 3. If Adayah does grow up being excited about shit, may she be a gastroenterologist and help those poor saps who consistently eat out at IKEA.
6. The “X” Factor. There is something about a full breakfast (eggs, bacon, and potatoes) for $.99 on the way in and a hot dog for $.50 on the way out that really irks me. And the fact that you can get 15 meatballs for less than $5. A lot of people go crazy for IKEA’s food, and I understand why. Its cheaper than fast food (well, it is fast food. To be more specific, cheaper than McDonald’s, Burger King, etc.) and tastes better. Go here for more detailed information about how you, too, could increase your chances for colon cancer: http://www.ikea.com/us/en/store/emeryville/restaurant. There’s just something about dirt-cheap food that turns me off. Call me an elitist, that’s fine.
Overall score: 4. The upside is that, apparently, on Wednesday nights, for only $7.99, you can enjoy a baby-back rib dinner. What a great place for a first date! “Hey there, I’d like to take you out to dinner at this great place in Emeryville. Its casual, and we can share some dingleberries. Whadda you think?”
Final score: 39.
Sigh…
1. Fun For Baby. We arrived at 9:45, which was, in fact, early, given that IKEA doesn’t open until 10. However, they do open the restaurant at 9:30, so Adayah and I shared a breakfast of bad coffee, Swedish pancakes (read: crepes folded into quarters) with dingleberries (lingerberries?), and ice water. Adayah enjoyed the grub and I enjoyed the relative serenity of an almost empty IKEA. We took in the views from the restaurant and pointed together at semis as they came down the connector from I-880 to I-80. She seemed content, even with the over anxious shoppers ogling her (going out in public with a cute baby is about as close as I’ll ever get to celebrity. Everywhere you go people fawn over you, or, in this case, the baby. Its really quite an experience, I think I’ll keep having babies until I’m well into my 60s).
As the store officially opened, I had to wrench the water away from Adayah (as noted in earlier blog entries, her kryptonite) so we could look at glamorous pieces of particleboard. We mazed our way through the upstairs display areas, stopping only at places where I remembered the “Incident”. Because the store was practically empty, and because I didn’t want to have an episode of PTSD, we went quickly. Adayah was entertained when I had a moment looking at different bedside tables and ended up slipping back into that dangerous, dark place that preceded the “Incident”.
As we ended the labyrinth of the upstairs floor, we arrived at the kids’ area, which includes toddler beds (stupid), lacy hanging things (more stupid), and toys (usually stupid). In the spirit of being a “good dad”, we stopped in this area for quite some time so that Adayah could play with the toys. As far as I was concerned, this was fine. Especially because she had blast. She played and climbed and walked and picked random things up and put them back into different places and smiled the whole time. She didn’t get fazed when some 3-year old psycho took a toy from her, and she even tried to share with that same demon a few minutes later. Best of all, she was walking all over the place (major milestone? Check).
Overall score: 9. Lots of toys, lots of smiles, no injuries.
2. Fun for Dad. Considering I had a meltdown the previous day, I’m not sure how to objectively evaluate my own experience in IKEA that morning. Adayah had a great time, which is a plus. I didn’t throw a temper-tantrum; also a plus. She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not served me with divorce papers yet; big-time plus.
Overall score: 10. Let’s be clear, this is an extremely skewed score. Normally, I wouldn’t set the bar so low that the absence of bad deserves a perfect score, but considering the location of this adventure, I feel comfortable giving IKEA a 10.
3. Cash Money. Operating under the assumption that you are going to IKEA as a recreational outing for your child, IKEA is a cheap trip. Entrance is free, parking is free, food is incredibly cheap ($1.49 for pancakes and coffee? More on this later), and you can stay as long as you want. Brilliant! I think I’ll start going on many more outings with Adayah to corporate shitholes.
Unfortunately, once you are in IKEA, you put yourself at extremely high risk of buying things you don’t need. Even if you only go to watch your child play. You see, Adayah was having such a good time with this one toy that I ended up buying it. It only cost $7.99, which isn’t bad, but you can see how a once free outing can get nasty quick. And then she loved this 3-pack of bouncy balls, so I got that, too ($.99). It’s really bad when your child toys with your desire for her to be a professional athlete. Adayah could point to almost anything sports related and I’d probably buy it for her, rationalizing to myself that the payoff will come later. What’s worse is that you could go into IKEA, play for an hour, and leave with a $300 table that you’ll spend 8 hours putting together.
Overall score: 5. The fact that you need nerves of steel to leave without spending anything is not a positive attribute.
4. Transportation. Very easily accessible by car. The AC Transit #57 bus goes right by. In addition, there is an Emery-Go-Round shuttle, which is free (lines P, BS, CS). Emery-Go-Round serves MacArthur BART and other exciting locales in Emeryville such as Chevy’s, Old Navy, the Oaks Card Club, and the abandoned building formerly known as Circuit City.
Overall score: 8. I’d love to hear a firsthand account from someone who has actually ridden the Emery-Go-Round aside from my friend Josh.
5. Morality Content. In the fleeting moments that I wasn’t overprotectively guarding Adayah from imminent death at the hands of a Swedish-designed toy made in Vietnam, I used my time there to partake in some high-quality people watching. Throngs of people passed through IKEA, and most of them were happy! Happy to be spending their money on what everyone knows to be faux-furniture. I don’t particularly have a problem with feeling happy about buying something and I sure won’t sit here and claim to be above that. However, I like to think that when I’m happy about buying something, I’m actually excited to own the product and have faith that I’m purchasing a good (or at least decent) product. When I buy from IKEA, however, I feel quite the opposite, more like I’m looking at myself in the prison mirror and admitting that I’ve got no shot at outmaneuvering Tiny (read: buying nice furniture) so I might as well give up and get it over with without a fight (read: going to IKEA). To bring this diatribe back to the realities of Daddy Day Care, what values and morals will Adayah learn by spending time at IKEA? That we should be excited about buying shit? (note: in all fairness, IKEA should only assume partial blame for this phenomenon. Our consumption-based mentality surely shoulders some responsibility) Sorry, I don’t want Adayah growing up to excited about shit.
Overall score: 3. If Adayah does grow up being excited about shit, may she be a gastroenterologist and help those poor saps who consistently eat out at IKEA.
6. The “X” Factor. There is something about a full breakfast (eggs, bacon, and potatoes) for $.99 on the way in and a hot dog for $.50 on the way out that really irks me. And the fact that you can get 15 meatballs for less than $5. A lot of people go crazy for IKEA’s food, and I understand why. Its cheaper than fast food (well, it is fast food. To be more specific, cheaper than McDonald’s, Burger King, etc.) and tastes better. Go here for more detailed information about how you, too, could increase your chances for colon cancer: http://www.ikea.com/us/en/store/emeryville/restaurant. There’s just something about dirt-cheap food that turns me off. Call me an elitist, that’s fine.
Overall score: 4. The upside is that, apparently, on Wednesday nights, for only $7.99, you can enjoy a baby-back rib dinner. What a great place for a first date! “Hey there, I’d like to take you out to dinner at this great place in Emeryville. Its casual, and we can share some dingleberries. Whadda you think?”
Final score: 39.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Adventure #2, Habitot
On June 26, 2009, Adayah and I visited “Habitot”, a smorgasbord of toddler toys that my wife bought a membership to a month ago. Speaking of my wife (insert Borat voice here), a wonderful woman named Sonya who I’m truly blessed to have in my life, she will be assuming a new moniker from this point forward in the Daddy Day Care Adventures. Adayah has turned a new corner in her development, and while she still can’t fully speak, read, or shoot dice, she can now say, “Momma” and “Dada” clearly. Very exciting. When she wakes up from a nap and wants Sonya, she calls out, “Momma”. When I come home from throwing temper tantrums on the golf course with my friends, she looks at me, points, and says, with a smile, “Dada”. “Who cares?” you might ask yourself. “Big deal” you might think. Isn’t this simply a developmental milestone that all babies get to? Well, it is, in fact, a big deal because beyond being able to say “Momma” and “Dada”, she understands the meaning. This all become apparent the other day when Sonya called from work, her picture came up, and I unwittingly blurted out, “It’s Momma on the phone.” Woops. Adayah immediately burst into tears and was imploring the world to deliver her Momma to her. The only problem was that Momma was in Vallejo looking at women’s vaginas (she’s a midwife, not a frequent patron of strip clubs). So, as I mentioned earlier from this point forward, my wonderful, beautiful, better half will now be referred to as “She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named” in the interest of not toying with my daughter’s emotions. Yes, it’s true; I’m comparing my wife to Voldemort. I hope I ever get to have sex again.
Onward and upward, let’s dissect Habitot!
1. Fun for baby. Habitot is a brilliant concept. They take a relatively small space (I’d say total square footage is about the size of a large house), fill it with a slew of different toys and activities, and even have a bubbly staff floating in the area. Its not that I’ve never seen those toys before, I’ve just never seen them all in one place. If there were an adult equivalent of Habitot, it would be the Super Longs on 51st and Broadway. The Super Longs has everything from first aid and medicine to fishing supplies and hardware. Habitot has everything from a toy-lending library to a weird, netted wall to crawl in (and the netting even comes off in case you need to rescue your stuck kid). Brilliant.
We began our time in Habitot at the Brio train tables, where they’ve laid out two elaborate train schemes for kids to play with. Adayah plays with trains at home, so she enjoyed this area, although she was thrown off by some of the older kids who had no qualms about stealing her locomotive. I put on my best “I hate you but it would be socially unacceptable to cuss out a 4 year old face” and smiled graciously as the hoodlum stole from my baby. This encounter with a future felon threw Adayah off, and she seemed reluctant to fully enjoy the buffet of baby paraphernalia. Not a great start.
She perked up, however, and we read a book together to get back in the mood to put random things in our mouths (well, her mouth). And, then, we saw it. The mother lode of Habitot: water toys. In a corner of the “museum” (what do you call Habitot, anyways? A museum? A play place? A breeding ground for germs?), there is an area set up for kids to pour water into different buckets, into various contraptions that simulate rivers, and, mostly, onto themselves. Adayah’s Achilles heel is water, and she will happy spend hours splashing about in water (much to my chagrin, most of the time). In this case, it was exactly what we needed, and it put her back in a playful mood. She even let me put a water apron on her (think lassoing at the rodeo).
We dabbled in some more trains, decided that the clay and paints are not for us (this was a huge relief, I must say. When Adayah gets a hold of a paint brush and actually enjoys it, I’ll look like a bad piece of modern art) caught magnetic fake fish with magnetic fake fishing poles, and acted civilly towards other kids. Adayah even got mad when we left, which was a good thing.
Overall score: 8. Habitot is the Snicker’s bar of Baby Adventures. Not particularly flashy, but have you ever had a bad Snicker’s bar?
2. Fun for Dad. Anytime Adayah has fun, I have fun (ok, that’s definitely not true, I just felt some obligation to pretend I’m one of those corny parents who are selfless to a fault. In fact, most of the time Adayah is having fun, I’m cleaning something up, getting ready to clean something up, or getting ready to dial 911. By the end of this whole parenting thing, I’m convinced I’ll have developed a Pavlovian reaction to fun that will end with me in the fetal position with a rag, non-toxic cleaner, and Desitin).
I went into Habitot the following question: Besides relishing in my child’s happiness, how else can I enjoy my time here? The answer? People watching. As I’ve become more accustomed to spending large periods of time surrounded by moms, nannies, and dads with their babies, I’ve become fascinated with watching and observing them (just to clarify, I watch my own child most of the time, I’m not some weirdo who goes to Habitot, puts his kid in the corner with water, and stares at strangers). Part of it is for my own learning as a parent; I’ve seen lots of little tricks from strangers that make a lot of sense for my own parenting (I’ve also seen lots of tricks from strangers that are crazy and will only lead to creating future train thieves). Part of it is making this whole parenting thing feel normal to me. Its actually comforting to see another kid totally flip out when his mom takes something from him because it always makes me realize that this kind of stuff just happens while parenting a baby, that other people go through the same thing. And, finally, part of it is indulging in the running monologue in my head using the poor adults at Habitot as fodder. It’s a lot of fun to look at a complete stranger with her baby, give them the quick up and down, and 15 seconds later you have a life story, including future predictions for both baby and mom. Oh, yeah, and participating with your child when she plays in the water, does art, throws toys, or anything else is pretty fun.
Overall score: 8. I always gauge how much I’ve enjoyed a place by how surprised I am at the time when we leave. Snickers really satisfies.
3. Cash Money. This is actually a complex category. We have a family membership, which costs $115 for a year, so we went in for free. We’ll be going to Habitot at least weekly, so over a 52-week year, a membership is money well spent. We had to pay $1.50 for street parking as well. So, we were in and out for $1.50, not including the membership fee (but my wife bought it, so for me it really felt like $1.50).
If you go, admission is $8 for an adult, $7 for a kid, and kids under 12 months are free (wow!). I remember seeing someone use a AAA card to get some discount, so that helps, too (I’m not sure what the discount is). When I first saw their admission prices, I thought it was steep, until I remembered the merry-go-round. You can get in for $15, stay as long as you want, and, theoretically, your child’s brain and fine motor skills will have developed. Not so bad, considering you can pay $10 at the merry-go-round, be done in 15 minutes, and develop vertigo. I will forever use the merry-go-round as a litmus test for how expensive outings are.
Overall score: 7. I was going to give it a 6, but how cool is it that a baby/kid oriented place doesn’t charge for below one-years old? Take that, pinche merry-go-round.
4. Transportation. Habitot is on the corner of Kittredge and the random street that connects the Berkeley Public Library and the YMCA, in the basement of the building, next to the Hall of Health. It is a block from Downtown Berkeley BART, served by the 1, 1R, 7, 9, 15, 18, 19, 51, 52L, 65, 67, 79, 800, 851, and F buses.
Overall score: 10. How could the score be anything less considering AC Transit basically routes its entire system towards Habitot. In fact, let’s really throw caution to the wind and award Habitot a bonus point. 11.
5. Morality Content. Besides learning that clothes get wet when doused with water, I assume that Habitot is a place where Adayah will learn to express herself, use and manipulate objects (such as her parents) to build fine motor skills, and engage positively with other children. Can’t argue with that, can you? For a better, more professional explanation of some of the goals Habitot has set for itself, go here: http://www.habitot.org/hab/about_mission.htm
Overall score: 6. Everything is wonderful, except the fact that Habitot is in a basement. What message does this give? Positive child development belongs in a basement? Also, please see “X” Factor for another unfortunate event that hurts Habitot’s morality rating.
6. The “X” Factor. All in all, our trip to Habitot was pretty mundane. Not a bad mundane, just kind of normal. Nobody got hurt, nobody got swine flu, pretty normal. That is, of course, if you consider thongs all in your face a normal thing. Let me explain…
I’d like to start this explanation off with a disclaimer. Generally, I like thongs. They’re a pleasant accoutrement to a nice outfit on She-Who-Must-Be-Named, as well a nice touch to any rap video. Its just that I don’t need to see some random lady’s ass and her thong hanging out (I’m talking the entire thing, not one of those seeing the tip of the thongs, I could see the entire thing. The entire thing. Am I clear?). Especially not in Habitot. So, it was a little unsettling when Adayah and I turned the corner of Habitot to go to the farm area and we were assaulted by some woman’s thong. What does one do in that situation? Kindly shield your child by distracting her? Point to the trains and hope she wants to play there? Point to the woman’s thong and tell Adayah, “Don’t you ever do that to me!”? Nudge the nanny next to you, point to the woman and her thong, and do the eyebrow raise? File a formal complaint at the front desk? Walk up to the woman and tell her that everyone in Habitot just decided they’ve become celibate? It’s a tough call, and to be honest, I was stumped. I resorted to spitting up a bit of bile into my mouth and going with Adayah to look at some molded plastic.
Overall Score: 4 points. The thong wasn’t cool, but at least we made it home without any swine flu or venereal disease.
Final Score: 44.
Onward and upward, let’s dissect Habitot!
1. Fun for baby. Habitot is a brilliant concept. They take a relatively small space (I’d say total square footage is about the size of a large house), fill it with a slew of different toys and activities, and even have a bubbly staff floating in the area. Its not that I’ve never seen those toys before, I’ve just never seen them all in one place. If there were an adult equivalent of Habitot, it would be the Super Longs on 51st and Broadway. The Super Longs has everything from first aid and medicine to fishing supplies and hardware. Habitot has everything from a toy-lending library to a weird, netted wall to crawl in (and the netting even comes off in case you need to rescue your stuck kid). Brilliant.
We began our time in Habitot at the Brio train tables, where they’ve laid out two elaborate train schemes for kids to play with. Adayah plays with trains at home, so she enjoyed this area, although she was thrown off by some of the older kids who had no qualms about stealing her locomotive. I put on my best “I hate you but it would be socially unacceptable to cuss out a 4 year old face” and smiled graciously as the hoodlum stole from my baby. This encounter with a future felon threw Adayah off, and she seemed reluctant to fully enjoy the buffet of baby paraphernalia. Not a great start.
She perked up, however, and we read a book together to get back in the mood to put random things in our mouths (well, her mouth). And, then, we saw it. The mother lode of Habitot: water toys. In a corner of the “museum” (what do you call Habitot, anyways? A museum? A play place? A breeding ground for germs?), there is an area set up for kids to pour water into different buckets, into various contraptions that simulate rivers, and, mostly, onto themselves. Adayah’s Achilles heel is water, and she will happy spend hours splashing about in water (much to my chagrin, most of the time). In this case, it was exactly what we needed, and it put her back in a playful mood. She even let me put a water apron on her (think lassoing at the rodeo).
We dabbled in some more trains, decided that the clay and paints are not for us (this was a huge relief, I must say. When Adayah gets a hold of a paint brush and actually enjoys it, I’ll look like a bad piece of modern art) caught magnetic fake fish with magnetic fake fishing poles, and acted civilly towards other kids. Adayah even got mad when we left, which was a good thing.
Overall score: 8. Habitot is the Snicker’s bar of Baby Adventures. Not particularly flashy, but have you ever had a bad Snicker’s bar?
2. Fun for Dad. Anytime Adayah has fun, I have fun (ok, that’s definitely not true, I just felt some obligation to pretend I’m one of those corny parents who are selfless to a fault. In fact, most of the time Adayah is having fun, I’m cleaning something up, getting ready to clean something up, or getting ready to dial 911. By the end of this whole parenting thing, I’m convinced I’ll have developed a Pavlovian reaction to fun that will end with me in the fetal position with a rag, non-toxic cleaner, and Desitin).
I went into Habitot the following question: Besides relishing in my child’s happiness, how else can I enjoy my time here? The answer? People watching. As I’ve become more accustomed to spending large periods of time surrounded by moms, nannies, and dads with their babies, I’ve become fascinated with watching and observing them (just to clarify, I watch my own child most of the time, I’m not some weirdo who goes to Habitot, puts his kid in the corner with water, and stares at strangers). Part of it is for my own learning as a parent; I’ve seen lots of little tricks from strangers that make a lot of sense for my own parenting (I’ve also seen lots of tricks from strangers that are crazy and will only lead to creating future train thieves). Part of it is making this whole parenting thing feel normal to me. Its actually comforting to see another kid totally flip out when his mom takes something from him because it always makes me realize that this kind of stuff just happens while parenting a baby, that other people go through the same thing. And, finally, part of it is indulging in the running monologue in my head using the poor adults at Habitot as fodder. It’s a lot of fun to look at a complete stranger with her baby, give them the quick up and down, and 15 seconds later you have a life story, including future predictions for both baby and mom. Oh, yeah, and participating with your child when she plays in the water, does art, throws toys, or anything else is pretty fun.
Overall score: 8. I always gauge how much I’ve enjoyed a place by how surprised I am at the time when we leave. Snickers really satisfies.
3. Cash Money. This is actually a complex category. We have a family membership, which costs $115 for a year, so we went in for free. We’ll be going to Habitot at least weekly, so over a 52-week year, a membership is money well spent. We had to pay $1.50 for street parking as well. So, we were in and out for $1.50, not including the membership fee (but my wife bought it, so for me it really felt like $1.50).
If you go, admission is $8 for an adult, $7 for a kid, and kids under 12 months are free (wow!). I remember seeing someone use a AAA card to get some discount, so that helps, too (I’m not sure what the discount is). When I first saw their admission prices, I thought it was steep, until I remembered the merry-go-round. You can get in for $15, stay as long as you want, and, theoretically, your child’s brain and fine motor skills will have developed. Not so bad, considering you can pay $10 at the merry-go-round, be done in 15 minutes, and develop vertigo. I will forever use the merry-go-round as a litmus test for how expensive outings are.
Overall score: 7. I was going to give it a 6, but how cool is it that a baby/kid oriented place doesn’t charge for below one-years old? Take that, pinche merry-go-round.
4. Transportation. Habitot is on the corner of Kittredge and the random street that connects the Berkeley Public Library and the YMCA, in the basement of the building, next to the Hall of Health. It is a block from Downtown Berkeley BART, served by the 1, 1R, 7, 9, 15, 18, 19, 51, 52L, 65, 67, 79, 800, 851, and F buses.
Overall score: 10. How could the score be anything less considering AC Transit basically routes its entire system towards Habitot. In fact, let’s really throw caution to the wind and award Habitot a bonus point. 11.
5. Morality Content. Besides learning that clothes get wet when doused with water, I assume that Habitot is a place where Adayah will learn to express herself, use and manipulate objects (such as her parents) to build fine motor skills, and engage positively with other children. Can’t argue with that, can you? For a better, more professional explanation of some of the goals Habitot has set for itself, go here: http://www.habitot.org/hab/about_mission.htm
Overall score: 6. Everything is wonderful, except the fact that Habitot is in a basement. What message does this give? Positive child development belongs in a basement? Also, please see “X” Factor for another unfortunate event that hurts Habitot’s morality rating.
6. The “X” Factor. All in all, our trip to Habitot was pretty mundane. Not a bad mundane, just kind of normal. Nobody got hurt, nobody got swine flu, pretty normal. That is, of course, if you consider thongs all in your face a normal thing. Let me explain…
I’d like to start this explanation off with a disclaimer. Generally, I like thongs. They’re a pleasant accoutrement to a nice outfit on She-Who-Must-Be-Named, as well a nice touch to any rap video. Its just that I don’t need to see some random lady’s ass and her thong hanging out (I’m talking the entire thing, not one of those seeing the tip of the thongs, I could see the entire thing. The entire thing. Am I clear?). Especially not in Habitot. So, it was a little unsettling when Adayah and I turned the corner of Habitot to go to the farm area and we were assaulted by some woman’s thong. What does one do in that situation? Kindly shield your child by distracting her? Point to the trains and hope she wants to play there? Point to the woman’s thong and tell Adayah, “Don’t you ever do that to me!”? Nudge the nanny next to you, point to the woman and her thong, and do the eyebrow raise? File a formal complaint at the front desk? Walk up to the woman and tell her that everyone in Habitot just decided they’ve become celibate? It’s a tough call, and to be honest, I was stumped. I resorted to spitting up a bit of bile into my mouth and going with Adayah to look at some molded plastic.
Overall Score: 4 points. The thong wasn’t cool, but at least we made it home without any swine flu or venereal disease.
Final Score: 44.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Adventure #1, The Little Farm and Merry-Go-Round.
On June 17th, 2009, we (Adayah, my one-old daughter, Nayezca, my 5 year-old daughter, and I) packed the van, took a potpourri of ironic left-wing baby snacks, and headed to Tilden Park. Its amazing how long it can take to get there when you're trying to time it perfectly with when the baby needs to nap and when the cows will want to eat celery. For some reason, I had it in my head that going to the Little Farm at opening time in the middle of the week would be calm. That dream was shattered when we pulled into our parking space at the far end of the parking lot, right next to the chain-smoking 50 year-olds setting up a volleyball net (true story!). I was disappointed that the East Bay Regional Park District website didn't inform me that today was opiate recovery day at the park (and, just for the record, I have nothing against people recovering from opiate addictions. It was just really weird). The plan was to spend some quality time with the pigs and then go to the merry-go-round in the park and straddle some plastic horses. Good times, indeed.
(I'm including both of these places into one adventure)
1. Fun for baby. And in this case, a 5 year-old.
There's something very, very cool about watching your baby learn to make farm animal sounds. That was not a sarcastic sentence. Neither was that one. Anyway, I can't describe it very well, but I always feel a deep, paternal joy when I watch Adayah imitate me after I belt out a chicken's "bawk-bawk-bawk" or a cow's "mooooo" (I can already tell that its moments like these that are precious and I’ll look back on them with nostalgic eyes as my 15 year old daughter asks me if its ok to stay out until midnight). So, it was game time. Time to implement all our practice at home. We approached the pigpen, and peered into a pretty revolting scene. Fortunately, Adayah didn't realize that one of the pigs had a dingle berry the size of a grapefruit hanging out of its anus. Unfortunately, Nayezca did realize. Nevertheless, we persevered, and both girls seemed to enjoy watching pigs eat lettuce floating on top of the pool of water in the pen. Adayah didn't utter an "oink" but seemed content nevertheless.
We continued onto a large pen that had a random assortment of fowl pecking each other and eating lettuce off the ground. This was exciting. Adayah had just perfected the "bawk-bawk" a few days ago, so I was anxious to watch her belt out some chicken noises. However, the Little Farm threw her off by having turkeys, ducks, and geese in the same pen. Give me a break, since when do chickens, geese, ducks, and turkeys all hang out together? She was disappointed, and failed to provide a decent "bawk-bawk". Lame.
Upward and onward to the goats. These creatures were sticking their heads, half their necks, and a whole leg out of the pen to get food from the group of kids on a field trip. Nayezca loved this part, something about the goats’ aggression. Adayah was reluctant, something about a pair of beady yellow eyes too close.
We culminated our animal experience with the heifers, and both kids enjoyed watching them devour celery and lettuce. Adayah wasn’t too into a 12-inch tongue approaching her, and was reluctant to give the cows food, even with some help. She didn’t complain, nor was she overly excited about feeding them, but did enjoy petting the cow and listening to it “moo”.
Both girls enjoyed the merry-go-round, our final stop in this adventure, and I was pleasantly surprised that Adayah didn’t get scared, throw a fit, get nauseous, or pick a fight with another baby. She rejected the belt you typically have to put around their waist, and even screamed at the nasty young woman running the merry-go-round who looked like she had one too many Nyquil the night before. Good girl.
Overall score: 6. Nothing too exciting, but nothing bad either.
2. Fun for Dad. Where to begin? Besides dealing with the throngs of day camps and preschools, and concern about swine flu (more on that later), it was a blast. I grew up a city slicker, so going to a fake farm on the edge of the city is about as country as I get. The pigs were fascinating, in the same that watching reruns of Cops is fascinating. I felt like Homer Simpson, as the three little pigs bouncing around turned to three pieces of bacon. Ditto for the turkeys. In fact, the whole chicken/turkey/goose/duck pen seemed like a great place to raise Turduckens, and it reminded me that for the cost of a nice dinner, I could be having a fowl (foul?) Turducken orgy (http://www.cajungrocer.com/fresh-foods-holiday-dishes-turducken-c-1_15_24.html?source=google&gclid=CJWJiYWOlJsCFQ6jagodzRnPoQ). I was similarly amazed at the cows, not at fact that they were walking pieces of asada, but at their sheer size. These aren’t particularly gigantic cows, but they were still gigantic. Very cool. I’d happily revisit the Little Farm anytime soon (or would I? More information on that to come).
The merry-go-round, on the other hand, is another story. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I get on another merry-go-round for any reason beyond saving my marriage. I’m not exactly sure why its taken me 28 years to figure out I hate merry-go-rounds. Nevertheless, I’d like to thank our corporate sponsor, Vertigo and its subsidiary Nausea, for the memorable trip to the merry-go-round.
Let’s not get it twisted; this was an incredibly trying experience. Nayezca was fine, she understands things like balance and gravity. Adayah, on the other hand, was sitting on one of the largest horses, refusing to wear the seatbelt, and moving counter-clockwise at about 75 mph. I stood next to her, both hands on deck at all times, praying I would make it to the end of the ride without keeling over (and, thus, leaving my baby at the mercy of the circular monster). Nayezca was thrilled, Adayah was happy, and I was miserable. As I said before, see you at the oral-surgeon before I see you at the merry-go-round.
Overall Score: 6. A 10 for the animals, a 0 for the merry-go-round (fine, a .25, it’s always nice to see your children enjoying themselves), averages exactly to 6, right?
3. Cash Money. The farm is free and free is good. We did have to buy $3 worth of lettuce and celery at Safeway. The merry-go-round is the kid version of a Ponzi scheme. 7 tickets for $10, and those cold-hearted teenagers even made the baby have a ticket. How is it that airlines, the same folks who charge you for everything, will let a baby 0-2 years old fly to Taiwan for free, yet the merry-go-round makes your baby provide a ticket? Did I mention the ride on the merry-go-round was 3 minutes? So, basically, for 15 minutes of “fun” at the merry-go-round (including breaks, snacks, etc.), we paid $10. Just to look at the merry-go-round through a different lens, what would you say if you wanted to take your kids to the merry-go-round and they told you, “Sure, come on, its only $40 an hour!”?
Overall Score: 3. Sorry Little Farm, you got killed by the merry-go-round.
4. Transportation. Easy accessible by car, and apparently the AC Transit #67 goes to both places (although I didn’t see any buses). There were lots of winding, hilly roads to get there, which could be problematic if you have carsick prone kids or if you just got off the merry-go-round. Parking at the Little Farm was tough due to the convergence of throngs of kids and recovering drug-users. Parking at the merry-go-round was a breeze, only one other car in the lot (this really should have told me something)…
Overall Score: 7. All things considered, not too bad.
5. Morality Content. What sort of morals could a merry-go-round teach? Besides showing your children you can avoid a temper-tantrum when you hate life, absolutely nothing. We’ll focus on the Little Farm for this part.
In an age where Michael Pollan, farmers markets, and slow food are the rage, what better way to inject sustainability and responsible food ethics into your children than to expose them to the animals themselves? Personally, I’d have loved it if they had a slaughterhouse and 5 star restaurant on sight and we could really experience what it means to see Snow Drop the cow become filet mignon, but one might argue that could traumatize kids. But, seriously, it’s a good experience for kids to see what they eat (or see what they don’t eat) and to have some connection to our society’s agrarian roots. Furthermore, I’m a firm believer that animals are to be treated with respect (I know there are tons of bacon jokes in this entry, but that’s a serious statement), and the Little Farm seems to respect their creatures, even though they permit kids to make the animals go on an eight-hour celery and lettuce bender. Its important for kids growing up in a metropolis to get exposure to farm animals. Right?
Overall Score: 8. Hey, Thomas Jefferson would be thrilled.
6. The “X” Factor. You know what scares the hell out of me? We take a beautiful trip to the Little Farm, idyllic pigs eating idyllic pieces of romaine lettuce, ganders gracefully mounting geese, and the kids are ecstatic. And then we arrive home and the baby comes down with a fever of 104 that lasts for four days, often spiking at 105. We take some non-idyllic trips to the emergency room and learn about an exciting disease called Kawasaki Disease. Sound too good to be hypothetical?
After the first trip Adayah took the little farm, in late May, she came down with a terrible virus that ravaged her poor little body, ravaged me and my wife’s nerves, and gave me a tremendous amount of sympathy and heartache for parents whose children have serious diseases or conditions. So, in a similar way that I didn’t drink tequila between the ages of 17 and 23 because of one terrible night, I also have a considerable amount of PTSD associated with the Little Farm. Instead of waiting until Adayah was 7 to take her back to the Little Farm, I trusted that her sickness and the Little Farm were unrelated events. So, as we wrapped up the day and Adayah had clear snot coming out of her nose, I was all but convinced she had a newer, more deadly version of the swine flu.
Overall Score: -5 points. 2 for 2 on sickness at the Little Farm? The next time I see one of those pigs I hope it’s crispy, next to some scrambled eggs and sourdough toast.
Final Score: 25.
(I'm including both of these places into one adventure)
1. Fun for baby. And in this case, a 5 year-old.
There's something very, very cool about watching your baby learn to make farm animal sounds. That was not a sarcastic sentence. Neither was that one. Anyway, I can't describe it very well, but I always feel a deep, paternal joy when I watch Adayah imitate me after I belt out a chicken's "bawk-bawk-bawk" or a cow's "mooooo" (I can already tell that its moments like these that are precious and I’ll look back on them with nostalgic eyes as my 15 year old daughter asks me if its ok to stay out until midnight). So, it was game time. Time to implement all our practice at home. We approached the pigpen, and peered into a pretty revolting scene. Fortunately, Adayah didn't realize that one of the pigs had a dingle berry the size of a grapefruit hanging out of its anus. Unfortunately, Nayezca did realize. Nevertheless, we persevered, and both girls seemed to enjoy watching pigs eat lettuce floating on top of the pool of water in the pen. Adayah didn't utter an "oink" but seemed content nevertheless.
We continued onto a large pen that had a random assortment of fowl pecking each other and eating lettuce off the ground. This was exciting. Adayah had just perfected the "bawk-bawk" a few days ago, so I was anxious to watch her belt out some chicken noises. However, the Little Farm threw her off by having turkeys, ducks, and geese in the same pen. Give me a break, since when do chickens, geese, ducks, and turkeys all hang out together? She was disappointed, and failed to provide a decent "bawk-bawk". Lame.
Upward and onward to the goats. These creatures were sticking their heads, half their necks, and a whole leg out of the pen to get food from the group of kids on a field trip. Nayezca loved this part, something about the goats’ aggression. Adayah was reluctant, something about a pair of beady yellow eyes too close.
We culminated our animal experience with the heifers, and both kids enjoyed watching them devour celery and lettuce. Adayah wasn’t too into a 12-inch tongue approaching her, and was reluctant to give the cows food, even with some help. She didn’t complain, nor was she overly excited about feeding them, but did enjoy petting the cow and listening to it “moo”.
Both girls enjoyed the merry-go-round, our final stop in this adventure, and I was pleasantly surprised that Adayah didn’t get scared, throw a fit, get nauseous, or pick a fight with another baby. She rejected the belt you typically have to put around their waist, and even screamed at the nasty young woman running the merry-go-round who looked like she had one too many Nyquil the night before. Good girl.
Overall score: 6. Nothing too exciting, but nothing bad either.
2. Fun for Dad. Where to begin? Besides dealing with the throngs of day camps and preschools, and concern about swine flu (more on that later), it was a blast. I grew up a city slicker, so going to a fake farm on the edge of the city is about as country as I get. The pigs were fascinating, in the same that watching reruns of Cops is fascinating. I felt like Homer Simpson, as the three little pigs bouncing around turned to three pieces of bacon. Ditto for the turkeys. In fact, the whole chicken/turkey/goose/duck pen seemed like a great place to raise Turduckens, and it reminded me that for the cost of a nice dinner, I could be having a fowl (foul?) Turducken orgy (http://www.cajungrocer.com/fresh-foods-holiday-dishes-turducken-c-1_15_24.html?source=google&gclid=CJWJiYWOlJsCFQ6jagodzRnPoQ). I was similarly amazed at the cows, not at fact that they were walking pieces of asada, but at their sheer size. These aren’t particularly gigantic cows, but they were still gigantic. Very cool. I’d happily revisit the Little Farm anytime soon (or would I? More information on that to come).
The merry-go-round, on the other hand, is another story. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I get on another merry-go-round for any reason beyond saving my marriage. I’m not exactly sure why its taken me 28 years to figure out I hate merry-go-rounds. Nevertheless, I’d like to thank our corporate sponsor, Vertigo and its subsidiary Nausea, for the memorable trip to the merry-go-round.
Let’s not get it twisted; this was an incredibly trying experience. Nayezca was fine, she understands things like balance and gravity. Adayah, on the other hand, was sitting on one of the largest horses, refusing to wear the seatbelt, and moving counter-clockwise at about 75 mph. I stood next to her, both hands on deck at all times, praying I would make it to the end of the ride without keeling over (and, thus, leaving my baby at the mercy of the circular monster). Nayezca was thrilled, Adayah was happy, and I was miserable. As I said before, see you at the oral-surgeon before I see you at the merry-go-round.
Overall Score: 6. A 10 for the animals, a 0 for the merry-go-round (fine, a .25, it’s always nice to see your children enjoying themselves), averages exactly to 6, right?
3. Cash Money. The farm is free and free is good. We did have to buy $3 worth of lettuce and celery at Safeway. The merry-go-round is the kid version of a Ponzi scheme. 7 tickets for $10, and those cold-hearted teenagers even made the baby have a ticket. How is it that airlines, the same folks who charge you for everything, will let a baby 0-2 years old fly to Taiwan for free, yet the merry-go-round makes your baby provide a ticket? Did I mention the ride on the merry-go-round was 3 minutes? So, basically, for 15 minutes of “fun” at the merry-go-round (including breaks, snacks, etc.), we paid $10. Just to look at the merry-go-round through a different lens, what would you say if you wanted to take your kids to the merry-go-round and they told you, “Sure, come on, its only $40 an hour!”?
Overall Score: 3. Sorry Little Farm, you got killed by the merry-go-round.
4. Transportation. Easy accessible by car, and apparently the AC Transit #67 goes to both places (although I didn’t see any buses). There were lots of winding, hilly roads to get there, which could be problematic if you have carsick prone kids or if you just got off the merry-go-round. Parking at the Little Farm was tough due to the convergence of throngs of kids and recovering drug-users. Parking at the merry-go-round was a breeze, only one other car in the lot (this really should have told me something)…
Overall Score: 7. All things considered, not too bad.
5. Morality Content. What sort of morals could a merry-go-round teach? Besides showing your children you can avoid a temper-tantrum when you hate life, absolutely nothing. We’ll focus on the Little Farm for this part.
In an age where Michael Pollan, farmers markets, and slow food are the rage, what better way to inject sustainability and responsible food ethics into your children than to expose them to the animals themselves? Personally, I’d have loved it if they had a slaughterhouse and 5 star restaurant on sight and we could really experience what it means to see Snow Drop the cow become filet mignon, but one might argue that could traumatize kids. But, seriously, it’s a good experience for kids to see what they eat (or see what they don’t eat) and to have some connection to our society’s agrarian roots. Furthermore, I’m a firm believer that animals are to be treated with respect (I know there are tons of bacon jokes in this entry, but that’s a serious statement), and the Little Farm seems to respect their creatures, even though they permit kids to make the animals go on an eight-hour celery and lettuce bender. Its important for kids growing up in a metropolis to get exposure to farm animals. Right?
Overall Score: 8. Hey, Thomas Jefferson would be thrilled.
6. The “X” Factor. You know what scares the hell out of me? We take a beautiful trip to the Little Farm, idyllic pigs eating idyllic pieces of romaine lettuce, ganders gracefully mounting geese, and the kids are ecstatic. And then we arrive home and the baby comes down with a fever of 104 that lasts for four days, often spiking at 105. We take some non-idyllic trips to the emergency room and learn about an exciting disease called Kawasaki Disease. Sound too good to be hypothetical?
After the first trip Adayah took the little farm, in late May, she came down with a terrible virus that ravaged her poor little body, ravaged me and my wife’s nerves, and gave me a tremendous amount of sympathy and heartache for parents whose children have serious diseases or conditions. So, in a similar way that I didn’t drink tequila between the ages of 17 and 23 because of one terrible night, I also have a considerable amount of PTSD associated with the Little Farm. Instead of waiting until Adayah was 7 to take her back to the Little Farm, I trusted that her sickness and the Little Farm were unrelated events. So, as we wrapped up the day and Adayah had clear snot coming out of her nose, I was all but convinced she had a newer, more deadly version of the swine flu.
Overall Score: -5 points. 2 for 2 on sickness at the Little Farm? The next time I see one of those pigs I hope it’s crispy, next to some scrambled eggs and sourdough toast.
Final Score: 25.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
