Thursday morning, the three of us woke up early for a day of fun. Daniel had the day off work and the weather was orange, crisp. It was the perfect day for a trip into D.C. We had grand plans: drive into the city, park at our favorite semi-secret location, walk around the mall and monuments, meet a friend for lunch, and explore the toddler-friendly Natural History Museum.
Two hours into a one hour car trip, things weren’t going very smoothly. Nate was mad, I was tired, and traffic was crawling. Why do we attempt things like this? About the time I realized that the walking distance from the World War II Memorial to Union Station is about 14 times longer than I thought, Nate learned he couldn’t run up and touch the Washington Monument.
Thank you, 100-year earthquake, for that meltdown.
He did love the WWII memorial and ran like a wild man, delighted at its size and “swimming pool.” We passed by elder man in a wheelchair, obviously a veteran, who was being pushed around and photographed by his family. He was so frail next to the granite structure, he who was the reason it existed. This is difficult to explain to Nate, who thinks the whole memorial is a giant playground. I manage to find the pillars of the states he knows and tells him that it’s for soldiers from that place. All I can do is build on the basics and leave the rest to later visits.
We’ll be back. We live here.
The longer I’m a parent, the more I think God gives us children to shake up our lives and to change our way of thinking. The most interesting part of the city to me is the historical sites and museums. To Nate, it was the fact that men in hard hats were replacing the mall’s grass. Slow down, self, and watch them plant seeds. It’s the best show of the day.
It was an exhausting day. We walked and walked and walked. We saw mammals of every variety at the museum and a few live ones on the lawn outside. We fed the fat pigeons at the Union Station Chipotle. Nate rode up and down the nearby escalator—just because it was there. And when the last exhibit button was pushed and a souvenir patch was bought, we went home.
Later, Daniel commented on how little Nate looks in the city. At home, he’s a force that defines our days. In D.C., he’s a short red-haired kid wandering around a big lawn, looking at tall monuments, and learned about momentous times in history. It’s good for us to see that—that our world is bigger than potty training troubles and the messy living room. And maybe, with several trips and lots of explaining, Nate will begin to understand that as well. We’ll be back. This is home.
Even with the bad traffic.