I Don’t Know How You Pronounce It But This Park is Awesome

Some days, we do manage perfection, at least for moments at a time.

We took a drive to the North Shore so that The Professor could attend a meeting.  The kids and I tagged along, to get out of the house.  After dropping off their dad, I drove them twenty minutes to Fontainebleau State Park.

It only took The Professor seven years (3 dating + 4 married) to train me to immediately turn into the Visitor’s Center whenever I enter any type of Park or Historic Landmark.  Usually when we are together and he does this, I will check my watch and tap my foot and sigh pointedly (and with feeling) as we spend half our allotted outside-at-the-park time inside a building.  But The Professor cannot enjoy a hike without first getting a map of the hike and then looking at the map for twenty minutes or so and then perusing any exhibits so he can understand the context of the hike and then reading the map a little longer and then planning where we’ll stop for our picnic lunch on the hike and then estimating how long each leg of the hike will take and then checking the map forty seven times during the hike, all of which activities usually take up a great deal more time than the actual hiking.  I am an impatient person, and this formerly drove me crazy, but I’ve had to modify my expectations over the last seven years, and apparently I’ve modified them so dramatically that now I automatically turn into a Visitor’s Center and look for maps, even when The Professor is not present to prompt me to do so.  Don’t tell him this, or I may have to stop glaring impatiently at my watch whenever we go to park visitor centers together, and then my marriage will be a little less fun.

So.  Back to my story.  I load Liam in the Ergo baby carrier and take Jack by the hand, and we mosey into the Visitor’s Center.  We wave hello to the Ranger at the desk, who sizes up my oldest son in about two seconds and then recommends that we check out the baby alligator in the aquarium in the back right corner.  This glorious sight is met with wonder and amazement by Jack, who says “Alligator!  Look, an alligator!  Rawr!” about fifty seven times in the first minute.   A man dressed in cargo pants wanders by as we’re looking at the alligator and offers to take him out – OK, I figure, this guy  must be a ranger, too, though he is lacking the green uniform.  He and the desk ranger talk about the alligator’s name (Bruce, after the shark in Finding Nemo, a shark I know well) as he reaches into the aquarium and picks up the hissing creature.  Jack instantly runs a mile in the opposite direction, and ooh and aahs only after he’s reached what he estimates to be a safe harbor (hiding behind a shelf unit with only the tip of his head peeking around the corner).  I pet the thing’s tummy, and Jack says “Careful!  Careful Mama!”

Cargo pants man (who I could also call multiple ear piercings man, as he has 6 silver hoops in each ear) pleasantly chats about alligators, and about the gecko on Jack’s shirt, and about the picture of the anole on the wall, all the while holding the writhing, hissing, pissed off baby alligator.  I tell him we’re all set with alligator-petting, and he can put the poor thing back, and so he does so gently, murmuring to the little guy.  Then he says to Jack “Hey, little man, how would you like it if I made you a cookie paddle?”  It sounds interesting to me, and I’m curious what a cookie paddle is, though I’m a little worried about how long it will take and whether that is longer than a two-year old’s attention span (likely).   Before I can protest, however, Mr. Cargo Pants is heading to a closet and fetching out stacks and stacks of sharp pioneer style tools and carrying them over to a sawhorse, where he proceeds to whittle up a COOKING (not cookie) paddle with speed and skill.  A cooking paddle is just a wooden spatula that you stir up a roux with, and this nice man made one in about four minutes, talking all the while.  He held Jack’s attention pretty well, and mine, too.  It turns out that he’s not a ranger but a Native American storyteller, musician, teacher, and woodworker, whose name was Oihuthuiomgbsdbieatbvw (or something like that), which is Choctaw for Greyhawk, though he had one paternal ancestor from Wales and so his last name is Perkins.  His kid’s names are Cedar, Liam, Kieran, and Christy, which I only list because I find them a sort of funny and eclectic collection of names, much like Greyhawk himself was.  I guess we were just lucky that he was there today doing demonstrations, because he was super nice and fun to talk to and now we have a great roux paddle for our gumbos.  (Guess that means I’ll have to make a gumbo now!)

After hanging out with our Native American friend for a while (he called himself an Indian, by the by), we took off for a playground and beach at his and the ranger’s suggestion.  Jack had a great time at the park, cautioning me to be careful every time I followed him up the stairs and across the bridge to the slide.  He chased around a pair of 18 month old twins for about half an hour,  yelling BABY!  HI BABY!  CAREFUL BABY!  They frequently left him behind as they tumbled fearlessly around the playground structure and he wailed at them to be careful from what few spots he had determined to be safe enough for play.  He is a ninety year old grandma, I swear.

After the park and a snack, we got in the car to go pick up The Professor, and we played the animal sounds game, though in reverse – Jack yelled out animals to me, and I made their sounds. It devolved a bit into silliness:

Jack: Sheep, mama!

Me: Baaa!

Jack: Cow!

Me: Moo!

Jack: Ball!

Me: Ball?  What does a ball say?

Jack: Bounce Mama!  Bounce Bounce!  Chair!  Starfish!  Apple!

Me: (Laughing)

Jack: Dee Dee!  (His grandmother)

Me: What does a Dee Dee say, Jack?

Jack: Dee Dee say I Love You.

Awwwwwww.

Anyway, now we’re home, and he’s napping, and I’m so glad I had the opportunity to write down some details of this golden afternoon.  Some days the kiddoes are a burden and a trial, but some days it just feels like I get it so right on.  This is one of those days.  At least so far.  Catch me after nap, I may have to revise my pronouncement.