We got some bad news this morning that put a damper on our usual routine. Children, as you probably know, pick up on their parent’s moods, so Simon, sensing my bleakness, became much more needy and sensitive. I knew we needed to shake off the funk, so after breakfast and getting dressed I looked at him and said: “Hey, let’s go somewhere.” I tossed together the diaper bag, and still unsure where we would end up, we went out the door.
We drove. We listened to music and sometimes sang along. We went to the gas station where I held him on my hip as I paid and pumped and explained about what I was doing each step of the way, much to his delight.
We went to a store to use a public restroom in a tourist town, where I was reminded by the steadily growing crowd that this is a holiday weekend, and therefore my choice of destination was perhaps a foolish one. But it just so happened that the small toy shop was quiet, and they had a wooden train set up, so Simon enthusiastically occupied himself there while I watched for quite some time.
It also, serendipitously, was a farmer’s market day there, and we wandered through the stalls until a display of baked goods caught our eye. We bought a gigantic pretzel, loaded with sea salt, sundried tomatoes, spinach, and feta, and a fresh lemonade from another vendor, and found ourselves a shaded spot to sit side by side, chatting about bugs, and people-watching while we munched on our improvised lunch.
The very moment that we were tossing our paper cup into a trash can, raindrops began sprinkling on our heads, and we headed for the car, to return home.
The funk did not lift entirely. However, the adventure distracted us for a while, cheered us up, got us away from our own wallowing. We needed that escape today.