Really, I just can't stop with the weekend activities. My kids have been enriched to death the past month or so.
This weekend, we went downtown Raleigh for a double-header. First up: the North Carolina History Festival, which I hoped would get Mallory excited about the enormous NC Social Studies project she's working on. That night: Tickets to the ballet, a few blocks away from the festival. In between: About an hour and a half of down time (poor planning).
The festival was fine. We saw sculptures and a real dugout canoe and a replica Cherokee longhouse and the girls made bonnets and paper cardinals.
Much more exciting than history, however, was riding bus between venues:
Then, to kill time, we had an ice cream cone and wandered back to the garage where we'd parked the car. In the elevator, to be whimsical, I pushed 6 even though we were only on 3. The sixth floor level turned out to be empty of cars and the girls thought this was the best thing ever. A photo shoot ensued:
It WAS a lovely view:
We rode up and down in the elevator a few more times. I suggested that they pursue careers as Elevator Inspectors. "I didn't know that could be a job!" Phoebe exclaimed. Mallory expressed enthusiasm too, but then caution intervened: "If I ride an elevator in a really tall building, will my ears pop?"
Our parking garage fun wasn't over; next we went to our car to change clothes for the ballet. (The other option was schlepping over to the theatre, changing clothes in the restroom, and schlepping back to the car to put away our other things -- not appealing. It was cold out, and I'm lazy.) This turned out to be quite an adventure, because of course the people in the car next to ours walked up at the very moment the girls removed their shirts. Our windows are tinted so I don't think anyone could see anything, but the girls shrieked and dove under their seats anyway. "This is the worst idea ever!" Phoebe said.
Still, they cleaned up nicely:
The ballet was based on the Fancy Nancy books, which Phoebe adores. The series illustrator was there, looking very glamorous, and Phoebe got an autograph and a picture:
The girls insisted on sitting at the very tippy top of the balcony section, and then proceeded to wiggle and squirm throughout the performance. "What did you think?" I asked Phoebe when it was over.
She said: "I think ballet would be better if there was popcorn."
I think she's probably right.
We ended the night with dinner at IHOP. I know that my kids will remember the wrong things from this day -- they won't remember what a Cherokee home looks like, or what the North Carolina state reptile is, or the music from the ballet. They'll remember frolicking on a parking garage roof and chocolate chip pancakes. But I guess as long as they remember that we were there together, that's okay with me.
This weekend, we went downtown Raleigh for a double-header. First up: the North Carolina History Festival, which I hoped would get Mallory excited about the enormous NC Social Studies project she's working on. That night: Tickets to the ballet, a few blocks away from the festival. In between: About an hour and a half of down time (poor planning).
The festival was fine. We saw sculptures and a real dugout canoe and a replica Cherokee longhouse and the girls made bonnets and paper cardinals.
Much more exciting than history, however, was riding bus between venues:
Then, to kill time, we had an ice cream cone and wandered back to the garage where we'd parked the car. In the elevator, to be whimsical, I pushed 6 even though we were only on 3. The sixth floor level turned out to be empty of cars and the girls thought this was the best thing ever. A photo shoot ensued:
It WAS a lovely view:
We rode up and down in the elevator a few more times. I suggested that they pursue careers as Elevator Inspectors. "I didn't know that could be a job!" Phoebe exclaimed. Mallory expressed enthusiasm too, but then caution intervened: "If I ride an elevator in a really tall building, will my ears pop?"
Our parking garage fun wasn't over; next we went to our car to change clothes for the ballet. (The other option was schlepping over to the theatre, changing clothes in the restroom, and schlepping back to the car to put away our other things -- not appealing. It was cold out, and I'm lazy.) This turned out to be quite an adventure, because of course the people in the car next to ours walked up at the very moment the girls removed their shirts. Our windows are tinted so I don't think anyone could see anything, but the girls shrieked and dove under their seats anyway. "This is the worst idea ever!" Phoebe said.
Still, they cleaned up nicely:
The ballet was based on the Fancy Nancy books, which Phoebe adores. The series illustrator was there, looking very glamorous, and Phoebe got an autograph and a picture:
The girls insisted on sitting at the very tippy top of the balcony section, and then proceeded to wiggle and squirm throughout the performance. "What did you think?" I asked Phoebe when it was over.
She said: "I think ballet would be better if there was popcorn."
I think she's probably right.
We ended the night with dinner at IHOP. I know that my kids will remember the wrong things from this day -- they won't remember what a Cherokee home looks like, or what the North Carolina state reptile is, or the music from the ballet. They'll remember frolicking on a parking garage roof and chocolate chip pancakes. But I guess as long as they remember that we were there together, that's okay with me.
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