Parks, Pizza and Playtime...Christmas in NY

Our weekend frolic in New York started not in NY, but in Alexandria when Family Barnes pulled out of their driveway only to discover that the cigarette lighter plugs that power Harry's DVD player were kaput. A big problem when you've been promising your child he can watch a movie on the four-hour drive north. What to do? We gambled and called Rudy, then a total stranger, over at BMW of Arlington's service department and I pretty breathlessly explained the problem: No DVD, freaking toddler, long drive staring us in the face. Rudy must have kids because without even mentioning an appointment he had us drive right in and personally took the car into the shop where they popped in a new fuse, gave us a spare and sent us on our way (no paperwork, no money, nada). In truth I don't like BMW (my old Mini Cooper -- built by BMW -- aside) but they won a friend on Friday. My first order of business as we sped to NY was writing an email to Rudy's boss hailing him as a hero and suggesting he be awarded employee of the decade.

What followed was a terrific trip, full of walks through Central Park, which so puts our parks to shame, particularly the amazing playgrounds -- each beautiful with concrete climbing walls and faux battlements, recycled rubber "floors" and water features (that flow during summer). We visited the zoo -- Charlotte just adored it, maybe more than Harry who was entertained most by the clocktower that greets you upon entry and plays Christmas music. The seals danced for us, the penguins swam up by our noses and the polar bear shook his cancan.

We were positively the best thing Central Park's performers have seen in a while given Harry's love of tunes and his desire to stuff bills in each musician's case. One trombone player got a $five because we were out of singles. What resulted was our own little concert complete with "Elmo's Song."

On day two we rode the city bus from the Barnes' apartment on the East Side across the park and over to FAO Schwartz. What crowds in that store! But we were determined. Inside Harry stopped at every truck telling us to inform Santa of his needs, many needs, most of them involving tires. He was so wasted by the time we got to the check out line that he fell fast asleep in the stroller (see his picture with the FAO soldier), which gave us the illusion of being almost alone in NY (a date!), so we walked over to Rockefeller Plaza to see the tree and gaze in the store windows.

We explained to Harry that one of NY's best features is pizza. Never thought he'd be able to ingest an entire slice, but he did. Slowly, methodically, lick by lick, until it was gone. We rode subway a few times to give Harry a few kicks (Eliza the reason you think New Yorkers don't have two children is because the city is simply not equipped to handle double strollers. You want to see families with two kids? Go to the park. They're pretty much relegated to any place they can push -- public transportation is a nightmare for breeders there).

On Sunday morning Paul took the kids to let me take a run in the park. It was wicked chilly and I had no hat, so at Paul's suggestion I borrowed....my son's. My toddler son's. My 2-year-old's hat was on my big head. These Barnes children have HUGE heads! And he saved my bacon. Thank you Harry.

One of our last visits was to the Children's Museum of Manhattan on West 83rd Street. $10 to get in. The place makes Gymboree look triffling. It's beyond explanation, and so much fun for Harry and Charlotte alike. Can't recommend it enough if you're traveling to the city with your kids.

Perhaps the best part of the trip was sharing a small studio apartment with the kids for a couple days. Harry bunked with me each night in a murphy bed. He was dazzled waking up each morning to find mommy right there. On our second night Charlotte fell asleep in bed with me and Harry -- there I was with my two babies snuggled up with me fast asleep (which I can tell you never happens anymore thanks to the varied bed times and the advent of Harry's big-boy-bed.) It was so special. I remember reading years ago that Brad and Angelina (yes that Brad and Angelina) have a pajama party every Sunday night with their monster brood. I think I get it!

We can't wait to go back. But this time we're going to check the cigarette lighters before we get into the car.