Tuesday Train Day - Dinosaurs

This Tuesday was our most ambitious train day yet: the Museum of Natural History. It's the best museum in the city. And, if anything can counteract all that creationism you're taking in, it's this museum, with it's Big Bang exhibit and carbon dated fossils and towering dinosaurs. Because in the battle for little boys' hearts, I'm betting that dinosaurs beat creationism every time.

Daddy had to go to the city too, so we walked by his office (i.e Southside) to pick him up. You took him through your usual pre-train chatter, this week Duck the Diesel Engine was going to roll into to the station, and after a lot of deliberation you conceded that perhaps Percy was too small to fit on the track, but Mommy could put some bigger wheels on him and then he would fit just fine.

You loved the dinosaurs. They crouched right under the ceiling, their tails swept up in graceful arcs above the light fixtures. You had been roaring all the way to the museum, but in their presence you got quiet. You walked around tentatively, circling them. Then you got bold and ran around from room to room, making your trademark pirate face when I asked you to pose for a photo.





You started losing steam around the turtles. You laid down on the floor, as if in preparation for a tantrum or a nap. I asked if you were tired and you looked up at me and said, "I just like to lay on the floor. Sometimes."

The expression on your face said, don't over think this one Mom. I'm laying on the floor because I want to lay on the floor. It doesn't have to mean something. Sometimes a rose is just a rose.

It was a message I needed to hear. That night we went to Parent Teacher Conference at your preschool. Here is what we heard: you are very focused and determined and don't like switching gears from one task to another. You will interact with others but prefer to play alone. You are never aggressive or mean. You have memorized all of the train books, including a new one they brought in on Monday. Then came the shocker: they are concerned about your physical strength and stamina. Because sometimes when you go outside, you don't run around and play with the other kids. Sometimes you just sit there.

I was gobsmacked. And insulted. Last summer you were the only kid under 2 on a balance bike; you had a reputation and some serious skills. You tackle more subway stairs than most full grown commuters. You are the only kid in the grocery store pushing the cart instead of sitting in it. How could you be weak or enervated?

I suggested that instead of having a physical problem, perhaps you just didn't feel like running around. They said they'd also noticed you leaning a lot. I've noticed that too - I figured you were looking at things from a new perspective, or experimenting with shifting your weight around. Maybe you are naturally energy efficient. I never thought it was cause for concern.

Thursday was a beautiful sunny day, the warmest it's been in 4 months. You came outside with me to take out the trash. We have a game: as soon as I close the lid you take off running down the hill and I chase you. We raced up and down the hill four or five times. It began casually enough, you happy to pump your legs. But you gradually lost enthusiasm and I gradually turned drill sergeant. I kept chasing you, kept urging you to run and run and run. I had to reassure myself that you still could.