Sunday, January 28, 2007

Happy Birthday, Grace!



This weekend, the monkey posse headed over the bridge to celebrate with our favorite partner-in-crime, Grace. She turned two, and we were ready to party with the gang at the Children's Museum of the Arts, in Soho. This place rocked! Colors! Art! Crafts!! From chalkboard drawing tables, to claymation stations - there was plenty to see and do. Great job selecting a super fun place for a party, Mama Kristen.

Arts & crafts? You know I'm there.



Miss Mina was pretty excited to wear yet another new outfit, with coordinating hair accessories too! Where's the fashion papparazzi for this red carpet moment, she wonders? Check out the pom-pom sweater, people!



Monkey started his celebrating with a bang, and immediately got down to business with the afternoon art project. Here, he shows off his glue and paintbrush skillz. Those Tuesday morning art classes are paying off, eh?



While the birthday girl debated the merits of Manhattan vs. Brooklyn pizza slices, monkey hung back and practiced his floor routine.



But when the cake rolled out, we knew where to find him. I have to interrupt the commentary for just a minute to do some celebrating of my own. We didn't get a picture of it, but monkey ate almost a whole slice of pizza himself. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever have to entice my child to eat pizza, or that I would be celebrating his consumption of it. But he ate a slice at the party, and the entire room went still.

Did we just see what we thought we saw?

The monkey was eating.

Food.

It appears that hell hath frozen over after all.



Happy, happy...joy..joy!! This is what I felt like doing. But of course, for every victory, there must be a crushing defeat. As Monkey, Sr. pointed out, this party allowed everyone to witness first hand the best and worst sides of our son. The first hour or so was all fun and games and laff-daffy smiles. There were some wonderful pizza moments...and then there were some not so cute moments. Like the one that followed when Mr. Guitar man began singing.

At that point, Monkey had a complete and utter meltdown and had to be removed from the room. By me. I then spent the next hour wandering the rest of the museum with him while he screamed hysterically. As the tears rolled down his cheeks, I tried to evaluate what possibly could have set him off like that. The loud music? The amplification? The tambourine? Too much sugar?



While the monkey and I wandered about aimlessly, other kids managed to shake it like a polaroid picture. Or something like that. Go Ben!



Even Miss Mina managed to get in on the music action with her own little maraca.

Of course, the minute the monkey got back to the car, he was fine. In fact, he was better than fine. He laughed and sang songs, and amused himself the entire car ride home as though absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Bad behavior? Toddler tantrums? Baby nonsense? Whatever do you mean?

Happy Birthday Grace! I hope monkey didn't spoil your party completely.
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