Call me crazy-but there we were in the middle of a children’s museum the day after New Year’s day-being a family…….we were not alone.  It was part of our private family fun day-much needed-all the decisions were left up to our 6 and a half year old.  Walk around the city, have lunch, and then take in the new exhibit at the children’s museum.  We were not alone. Not that I minded.  Really.

There is something I have always loved about sitting back and watching a collection of people-just being people.  Throw kids in the mix and things really get interesting. Parents, all of us, cramming in time and squeezing out the last bit of Christmas vacation. Letting one big building and all it contains take over for a couple of hours is relieving-in a way-and yet, with that, there comes a whole other set of rules.  There are all kinds of kids-running, laughing, creating, oohing and ahhing….some dressed impeccably and with a nanny, some with a parent rightbytheirside, and others who were running amok.  Amok, amock, amok.  Children at play and playing well with others, sharing ( and some of those other things we learned in kindergarten) -some not playing so well with others and not really caring.  Parents on patrol, on cell phones, “engaged in the activity of play”,  on command ( “you go tell them you were playing with it….go on…right now…right now!”) on chase with sanitizer, on diaper duty, on mean kid alert-on watch alert and on the arm of a girlfriend ( the other mom’s were sizing up the girlfriend-and the fact she was not dressed for the weather-sensibly- of course, never mind the fact she was most likely wearing the cream colored sweater ( “twosizestoosmall”, poured over her boobs, “twosizestoobig”, the boyfriend with two children running around had gotten her for Christmas, and those high heeled boots, and thatpurse ( a “Dolce and Gabbana” )…..none of it was sensible, really, but it was fodder for the gaggle of moms sitting in the corner, resting, which was all fodder for me- semi listening and watching-all the while inventing conversations in my head and sizing up my own parent capabilities.  We all do it. I am thinking some of us have the same look on our face; or at least, I think, some of the moms look like I feel. Furrowed brows with thoughts of January, income, work, the amount of germs in the new water play exhibit-(don’t fool us with the whiff of Clorox in the air)…parents who are not well, children who are not well, income, mortgages, alone time, husband time…..it’s that same look we all have. note: I am not counting the look on the nanny’s face and I am not counting the look on the face of the mom who cared more about going outside every five minutes, for what I don’t know, but kept asking people to “keep an eye on my kids I’ll be right back”.  It was the look of too many thoughts.  The look of how we were going to make it all work.  All work and no play.  That is what is was. Exactly.  Note:  There were plenty of men at the museum-not one was comparing and sizing up-though plenty were on their cell phones and clearly, readytogoooooooooooo.

It is a joyful thing to watch kids play.  They just play.  Giddy in the moment of play-from one room to the next-and then on to the next moment.  Exclamations from mini achievements and discoveries.  To see your child fully content and happy is to know your own happiness.  I suppose it is the same thing-forever, and why, even now, it is the one thing my mom repeats more and more as her big wish for her four children.  She just wants us to be happy.  Really happy.  And yet, she knows it takes more now than a two hour trip to the museum to make that happen. Even now, with her days of the week all askew-and moments of time frozen-she still strives for that.  See kids play. Play kids play.