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The Place That I’m From Doesn’t Exist Anymore

The cities have turned to slush today (I don’t mind when the snow gets all melty, but I worry when it turns all freezy again). But that didn’t keep us from our plans. We slogged through sloppy roads and sidewalks, determined to get to our destinations. The little man was adamant about eating the promised pancakes. Which we did, though slightly later than intended. The place was hopping but we were served quickly. After eating our fill we sat together in the art corner, to make Valentine’s Day cards for political prisoners. There were a couple of little girls already at the table, and then we were joined by a few grown-up ones as well. A chance remark by one caught my attention. I spoke up, mentioning my own Scrabble addiction (that the husband, unfortunately, does not share). Turns out they partake on a regular basis, and in public places. One even invited me to join in some time. Email addresses were exchanged, so hopefully I will get a chance to. Then it was on to the Walker. We were too late for the 11am “Singing Story Hour” (that was, apparently, a big hit) so we strolled through the gift shop instead, waiting for the noon event. Since the place is shutting down soon they’re trying to clear out their inventory. Managed to score myself some swag at 70% off, but I didn’t go overboard. I spent just $16 and picked up an oversized roll of super-cool double-sided wrapping paper, plus three children’s books. Two for the little man, the third for myself. When it was time to enter the auditorium we were able to meet up with some ECFE classmates of ours, which was very cool. Expectations were high as the past few months we’ve been treated to happy funtime cartoons. The Walker’s web site was misleadingly upbeat about today’s offering:
“Come and join the expedition! Follow some young adventurers on a wild and wonderful journey into the unknown.”
While the little man enjoyed the opening sequences of horses being herded in the countryside, we hadn’t expected to also see their frozen carcasses strewn about, being picked over by dogs. It turned out to be a gritty, documentary style short film about homeless children in Mongolia…who flee to the city after their families’ livelihoods are destroyed by storms. These kids sleep in sewers or get drunk and pass out in the streets, and often turn to prostitution to feed themselves. Not quite what I had in mind for my four year-old to be watching (and quite different from last Saturday’s matinee of Elf). I was interested in watching more, depressing as it was, but not with the little man…or a roomful of other equally confused three and four year-olds.

cupid boy