Today, we have learned (or had forgotten but were reminded),
Ryan knows nothing of money, or its value. It was Mayborn Children's Musem day and Ryan had to bring three bucks. I handed them to him as we walked to meet the lady who runs the camp, and he looked at it like "what an odd, ugly combination of paper items you've handed me, mother... whatever will I do with them?" Thankfully he handed them off when I asked him and before they were lost.
There are lots of cheap or free fun things to do in Waco... or likely anywhere... if you look hard enough. Sometimes, these things are more fun than the things you shell out the big money for.
Richie thinks walking over the Waco Suspension Bridge is the coolest thing ever. We walked the length four or five times.
Walking the bridge four or five times is not enough for Richie. He still cried "walk ovah tha bwidge" when we left.
Thomas loves to ride the handrail of the ramp down to the river. Thomas is somewhat of a slow driver.
There are several families of mallards living under the bridge, and Richie loved feeding them!
Mallards like cheerios, but they LOVE Life cereal crumbs. Especially the ducklings. I swear I could hear the mother duck saying, "Thanks a lot, lady. Now they'll never take their naps."
There is a disturbingly large homeless population in Waco, and they all seem to hang out at the bridge. Some of them even ask for money. Goodie.
Train exhibit at the Mayborn is equal to elevators. Yet another goodie.
Every camp counselor is "Miss Staci" to Ryan. All Miss Staci's are of the utmost coolness.
When you pick up a child with autism who has been begging to see the trains at the museum, he will not be happy to see you.
Ryan loves the trains at the museum so much that he did NOT want to go home with mommy. K tried to tell him to say "goodbye, K" and instead he said "goodbye, mommy" while he clamped onto poor K, his wiry body clinging to hers. Not just once, a few times.
Knowing that going home with me meant no more trains today does very little to rebuild the shattered remains of one's heart and motherhood-self-esteem that comes from peeling your screaming, gangly six-year-old from the counselor who was kind enough to carry him to the van so you didn't have to drag him. He was screaming so forcefully I knew he had to calm down or he'd puke.
Such a fit can be over in less than ten minutes, and said child can be bouncing around, thrilled to be going to "Pizza Planet" the next minute.
Next time, I will use the term "Pizza Planet" instead of "let's get some pizza".
A cheap version of a slip-n-slide makes a great place to let the kiddos splash around.