Side note: it was quite cute. They pretended to get on the plane, read a book during the "flight," bought a treat at the market, saw the Wailing Wall, and flew back to Pittsburgh. I got the boys in the car by saying, "Okay! We have to get in the bus from the airport! Let's go!" Even The Boy went to the car cheerfully at that point.
We got to the comic book store, and The Boy didn't want to go inside. He wanted to wait outside, which isn't really practical - it's a busy street, with a lot of pedestrian traffic. That's not safe for a little, little boy. Words were exchanged: "I don't love you any more, Daddy," and that sort of thing. I "compromised" by taking The Baby out of the carrier on my back and put The Boy. He was not pleased, but he eventually calmed down with a thumb in his mourh. (...and he reached for belly, natch.) I'm kind of proud of that solution. He and I talked it through, and he grudgingly consented to riding on my back. He was a little nasty on the way back to the car when he realized that we weren't stopping at Starbucks for treats.
Once back in the car, the general good mood resumed. We went to the playground at Schenley Park, which is comparable in size to the Blue Slide Park, but no huge hill in the middle effectively cutting the park in half. We had a lot of fun - the older boys mostly played with each other and with the other kids while I chased around The Baby and made sure he didn't wander into the parking lot. We were in the park for a bit over an hour before number two and three started getting tired. It was pretty cool to watch them in the new park; The Boy, in particular, seemed to flow naturally from one group of kids to another and seemed to have fun all the time.
The Baby did a great job with some climbing things, although it scared the crap out of me. Three feet isn't far to fall, but it's really far when you're not three feet tall.
We got back home and proceeded upstairs for drinks and the bath. The Boy was quite upset when told he wasn't getting ice cream; he started to throw a fit when I told him that little boys who hit their daddies and say mean things to their daddy and brothers don't get ice cream treats. I left him alone in the kitchen and took the other two upstairs to get into the bathtub, and he eventually followed.
The rest of the evening went without incident. Number one fell asleep quickly, followed by three then two. I was actually able to get downstairs and get some chores done before The Wife was done with her rehearsal. That's always a nice feeling, if for no other reason than letting her quartet mates know that I actually do my share of things around the house.
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