Every month or so Ileana and a few other mothers get together and go out for dinner. This is always a good night for Sophie and I to do something fun for dinner.
Last night, I asked Sophie if she wanted to go to Rainforest Café. We visited the website and as soon as she saw all of the animal characters, she was hooked. Upon entering, Sophie could not stop talking. I think most three year olds do this - they have one subject that they can talk about forever whether it be cars, trains, babies, etc. Sophie's expertise is animals. We spent about a half-hour walking around the place, while Sophie showed off by expounding on everything she has learned watching "Go Diego Go". At one point I thought she would hyperventilate, she was talking so much.
We were seated between a large fish tank and one of the animated displays: the elephants. Sophie loved the fish display and made sure that I knew just how many “Dorys” there were in the tank. Everything was great until the elephants started trumpeting and moving. Sophie, not a fan of anything louder than a purring cat, was NOT impressed. As she covered her ears: “TOOO LOUD DADDDY” “WANT TOOO GOO HOME”. Since we just ordered our food, and I still hadn’t dried off from the rainy walk from the office, this was out of the question.
We colored to take our mind off the elephants and I tried, as best I could, to explain animatronics to a three year old. She’s been to Disney enough times for Christ sake; you would think a mechanical animal is not out of the realm of possibility. Convinced that a real elephant was behind us, and convinced that this place was “dirty” because the mist machines were spewing “dust”, I tried to make her feel better by positioning ourselves with our backs to the elephants and I covered her ears. Coloring and counting Dory was our best diversion and everything was eventually o.k.
The food came and Sophie ate the GIANT plate of broccoli that she threw a fit over after I ordered. I attempted to eat my Cobb salad with kid on lap and with my left hand (I am right handed). I have come to the conclusion that brain surgery is easier than eating with the wrong hand and a kid on your lap, particularly if what you are eating is chopped up into little bits and is difficult to pierce with a fork.
I had a slight panic when I hear Sophie, “What those daddy?” I looked around, trying to figure out what she was talking about. I laughed – realizing that the folks that run Rainforest Café obviously enjoy a good trip on “X” every now and then. Who in their right mind would stick a colored strobe light under a glass of chocolate milk? Are they trying to prepare my three year old for her first rave? I looked down at her glass, without the strobe light, looked back at her, and said it was a light. No question of “Why is there a light in their glass?” or “Can I have a light in my glass”. She shocked me by dropping the subject altogether and moved on to naming and counting all of the animals at the restaurant.
Naming is a big thing for Sophie these days. Every stranger has to have a name, everyone in every book she reads, TV show she watches, etc. has to have a name. The typical conversation goes like this: “Who that daddy?” “I don’t know” “Give them a name” “Petunia” “No, that not his name”. How the hell does she know “That not his name”? This goes on until, after twenty guesses, she comes up with something even more ridiculous than I did “Dusty” or “Black” or some other adjective that has little to do with what the thing she is naming actually is. Ileana might not agree and I may be a bit over-critical but Sophie is NOT a good namer. What kind of kid names her baby doll “Penguin”?
We took the train and bus home. It is always an adventure with Sophie and she was as inappropriately funny as ever. After a panhandler came by us on the train, Sophie asked in a loud voice “What she ask you daddy?” “She wanted me to help her.” Even louder: “Why she need your help?” A woman across from us could barely contain her laughter. “I’ll explain later, Sophie”. We eventually made it home and into bed. A lesson on homelessness, naming and counting 17 animals, a finished plate of broccoli, and into bed without a fight, I would consider this a pretty good evening.
I'm starting to get used to the whole Chinese New Year thing. I know we have King and President's Day but it's kind of nice to have a "new" holiday that interrupts the the coldest part of winter, punctuating things between New Year's and St. Patrick's Day.
Sophie had a ball except for the Lion Dance - where she "assumed the position" typical to anytime there is a loud noise. We do this at fireworks, and if you recall, we did it a few weeks ago at Rainforest Cafe. Also, please note the photo. Sophie could only handle being in her cute Chinese outfit so long before she just had to change into her moose shirt. I just didn't have the heart to break it to her that it's the year of the rat. 
