Yesterday the Bub and I headed to the local Barnes and Noble store to spend some time on a frigid day. We took the bus, our new usual as most other modes of transport are not very functional right now. (Snow blocking street parking, ice blocking sidewalks and curb cuts, too cold for biking, and the train is no longer stopping at our stop. For the next SIX MONTHS.)
He's quite the expert rider. He even learned from Mom how to shout to the empty air at the bus stop, "Bus! Where are you? Bus! We're cold! Where are you warm bus? Oh, bus!!" When it arrives, I hold his hand over the big step into the bus, then he lets go and runs into the bus while I juggle my Metrocard, gloves, a diaper bag, and a not-quite-folded stroller. By the time I pay the fare, he's already climbed into a front-row seat and is quietly checking out the other passengers from his perch, feet barely over the edge of the seat. In contrast, the first time I ever took a bus I was 18 years old and got all sweaty because I had no idea how it worked and I was gonna have to figure it out on the fly in front of the hordes of veteran riders.
When we get to our stop, he streaks for the door under the other passengers' feet. Fortunately, he has the sense to stop when I yell to him to wait for me, because I'm afraid he would just tear out the door onto his face. Because the day was so cold, I was planning on catching a second bus to the front door of the bookstore. But we had to pass the YMCA on the way and got waylaid by his demands to "Play basketball! Play basketball!" They have open toddler sports throughout the week where they lower the basketball hoops, set out portable soccer nets and give the kids some balls. Our walking by coincided with one of the scheduled times.
One of the highlights for Sasha is being big: giving the entrance worker his gym ID to scan. He's very professional, walking up to the guy and handing him the card and very seriously taking it back. I gave him my card, too, this time and when the worker reached out for card #2, the Bub-- momentarily confused-- shook his hand before remembering he held another card. And because I can't get enough of looking at this photo, I'll share it with you. His very first card had a photo of him with a bib on and a pacifier in his mouth, but this one is still pretty funny.
Though we really don't go that often, he knows the joint: where we go to art class, where to get the balls, where the stretching room is so we can do our stretching routine and bang on the especially loud radiator cover, where the water fountains and bathrooms are. In fact, he insists on accompanying me to the bathroom stall so he can helpfully get toilet paper for me by ripping 2-centimeter-long pieces at a time. And he still loves to
flush a toilet! But how we play ball is different every time. Here's one variation.
How to play soccer with a 2-year-old.
1. Turn net upside down.
2. Upset older children trying to play soccer according to rules.
3. Cheerily accommodate older children's request by playing offside with abandoned broken net.
4. Take rubber ball and push it through awesome hole in net.
5. Let someone else retrieve ball while hanging from hole in net. Enlarge hole.
6. Fall into net and through hole. Score!
