On Saturday, Evan and I went to enjoy Fiddlesticks alone. Arianna was sick, so Greg stayed in with her. While I was sad they weren’t able to join us, I really appreciated the time with my ‘lil guy. It’s rare he gets the one:one attention Arianna had at his age…and even rarer that I have undivided attention to give to him. We embraced this time.
Our first stop was Fiddlesticks. I was slightly worried because reading the song list I knew it might take about an hour. He’s three. He gets fidgety. He did amazing. From walking the streets of downtown > handing his ticket to the greeter > using the restroom before the show > finding our seats (which were kind of high up but turned out to be a charm because he didn’t want to be near Fiddlesticks or Pirate Parrot and he shares a hatred for costumed beings with his sister) > sitting and paying attention to the whole show > clapping on the right moments (some even before others started to clap). He just all out impressed me. There was no wiggling or whining. Well, until the end. He pouted because it was over and he wanted more.
He even posed for some photos at Heinz Hall which left me realizing I don’t have a baby anymore, I’ve got a big boy ready to take on the world. (And yes, that shirt was his choice.)
In lieu of wearing shorts and switching to pants, he earned himself a ride on the T. I threw in a walk around the Children’s Festival and the Venture Outdoors Festival, too. He was a trooper and it was clear that he loves this city very much. I can’t blame the kid.
There was pigeon chasing.
And kite flying with Maleficent mask fun.
Exhausted and hungry, we left downtown and embarked on a “find a Care Bears toy at Wendy’s” adventure that ended at the second stop without the toy. He gave in to a surprise toy and naming colors of train cars. We chatted with ladies who loved his hair. We chatted with a couple whose son just graduated college – the mom did similar things with him when he was young as she worked out of the house, too.
It was a special day made even more special by him asking me, “Can we do this every day, Mama?”.
Oh, how I wish, Bubby. How I wish.