I had one of those magical days with my 3 year old this week -- the sort of day you hope for as a parent. I realize now that it all came together so well because I just relaxed and followed my child's lead.
It all started on Monday, when I feverishly crammed all of my errands into the few hours she was at school so that we could have a free morning on Tuesday, with nothing to do but hang out. Emma wanted to go to Happy Hollow in San Jose, which sounded OK to me since we have a membership and I have mastered the art of rushing down there, "doing" the park and getting back up to Redwood City in time to pick up my older daughter from kindergarten.
Unfortunately, when we arrived at Happy Hollow, I discovered that it was closed because of the reduced fall/winter hours. Before I broke the news to Emma, I decided that I needed a backup plan to distract her from the tears that I felt were inevitable. I whipped out my phone to check the hours for the Discovery Museum, dreading how much a few hours of "fun" were going to cost me. I felt lucky to discover that the museum was open. When I explained to Emma that Happy Hollow was closed but we could go to the Discovery Museum instead, she said "no thanks." She wanted to go to a park near our house, which we had visited a few weeks before with some friends.
I tried to talk her out of the park, explaining that our friends would not be there. I tried to explain that we were already in San Jose and that we don't often get the chance to go to the Discovery Museum. But, she was having none of it. She wanted the park. I finally decided that the park was a heck of a lot cheaper and easier than the Discovery Museum -- especially when you factor in all of the rude, pushy grade school kids who always seem to be at the museum in the mornings. So, without even getting out of the car to stretch our legs, we drove back up the 280 toward our house and went to Little People's Park in Portola Valley.
The parking lot was deserted, and I was certain that Emma would be disappointed when she discovered that her friends were not there. But when we walked through the gate, Emma's enthusiasm for a vacant playground became infectious. The two of us ran up and down the AstroTurf hill, we swung on the swings together, we played "ice cream shop" in the little playhouse, we slid down the slides together, we each got our own rocking horse, and we ate our snack side-by-side on the jungle gym. It was truly a magical morning with my little one. I found that by letting go of my expectations about what would make a perfect outing, I was able to just "be present" and enjoy my child's zest for life.
Do you ever feel like you spend so much time, effort, and money to give your children what you feel are "perfect" experiences when all they really want is our undivided attention and a lazy morning at the park?
