Longer than a Tweet but Shorter than a Blog Post

I am tempted to write something here about breadboxes and elephants, but I don't exactly know what that something would be. So, here are three totally unrelated snippets that aren't exactly micro but are too small to stand alone.

Nature is humbling

There is a family of cardinals outside our kitchen window. One little fledgling sits in a bush just a few feet from my table as I am writing. It is a full-time job for both parents keeping that tiny demanding beak fed. The puff-ball is nearly invisible amongst the leaves and twitters non-stop, "I am here, feed me, here I am, did you forget? I am here, right here, hungry, feed me, here I am, did you get me a bug yet? here I am, I'm hungry, please come back, hungry, hungry, hungry, hungry...." Then one parent lands nearby, scopes out the scene to be sure that no enemies are nigh, jumps into the foliage, and feeds the tiny gaping maw. The silence of chewing (or whatever birds to) and enjoying ensues and the parent flies off. Then it's rinse, lather, repeat, with the other parent. ALL. DAY. LONG. Whenever I feel exhausted by the demands of preschoolers, all I have to do is look out the window. Mothering two preschoolers is so much easier than feeding a baby cardinal. I feel positively relaxed.

Also? Whoever coined the phrase, "you eat like a bird," to indicate a picky, sparse appetite obviously never actually saw a bird eat.


I need advice

We're going to New York City with the whole family soon. I have a short list of the obvious things to do (Central Park, the Natural History Museum, ferry ride, a lot of delicious eating, Shrek on Broadway), but I'm hoping your wisdom about the city will generously trump the obvious. Do you have any "best kept secrets" or "can't miss" suggestions for where you would take a 5 year old and 3 year old? I would so appreciate any ideas you have to offer. We're staying near Gramercy Park, if that matters.


Preschool teaches you lots of unexpected things

At bedtime, Daddy is reading The Little Mermaid for the umpteenth time this month to the children. Daughter, despite the fact that she insisted on this story and is making Son sit through his least favorite fairy tale again (he likes Rapunzel), is chattering away.

Son reprimands her, in his best stern teacher-ish voice: "If you can't listen, then we're going to have to have questions after the story is over."

The threat does nothing to quiet her. But it nearly convulses me.