I never knew the eve of Thanksgiving could be so exciting and fun, until I moved to the Upper West Side. Specifically, to an apartment along the Thanksgiving Day Parade route.
|(She's being goofy.)|
Isabella's school had huge inflatable slides in the school yard when we picked her up from school (as a fundraiser). We played there for a little while, until the kids were sufficiently cold, wet and cranky. Then we went across the street to see the parade balloons being filled with helium. We ran into some old friends, visiting from Washington D.C. about the time all
my kids started screaming because their fingers and toes were frozen. (It was one of those moments when I realized I was the only one around with a 1:3 ratio; adult to child.)
I asked a stranger to snap a photo, promised the kids hot chocolate, and plowed my beast of a stroller through the crowds. I flashed my i.d. to the cops and got past gated areas because I'm an Upper West Sider
. It pays to spend a gazillion dollars in rent sometimes
. We settled into the overcrowded Starbucks, wished neighborhood friends a happy Thanksgiving, sipped hot cocoa and got chatting with a touristy family. Tourists from Farmington, UT who figured I might be Mormon. I guess we kind of stand out with the mom to child ratio, in New York City.
We dashed home and had to stop the steady stream of toursits flowing by our apartment door so I could heft our beast of a stroller down the 5 steps to our ground floor door. It was my way of putting on a show for the visitors. I am sure they were thinking, "Crazy New Yorker!"
Once inside our cozy little palace, I wrapped the kids in warm blankets and finally exhaled!