Saturday at the Prata

The kids woke up yesterday begging for roller coasters, so Timi (who'd been ill with fever + stomach miseries for four days) swallowed some motrin, and we rallied for a day at the Prata. The kids were so excited they yelled like a couple rhesus monkeys the entire tram ride there. Peter was enthusiastic and completely fearless and wanted to ride everything ten times. He was ever so sweet to his terrified Mama and grabbed my hand in a reassuring kind of way when the bats came out in the zombie house. Parker was less amused by the whole scene. Mostly, he clung to my pant leg and wet his own. The only ride that tempted him was the blue alpha romeo that went round a track past two gas pumps at a snail's pace. Upon mastering that one, he got a wee bit daring and dragged me off to one he'd watched Peter go on but hadn't dared to try himself: a firetruck that went almost as slow as the alpha romeo, but with a few more dips in the track. I set him in the seat smiling, but when it came down the ever so slight incline he let out a blood curdling scream that even made the tattooed man and his girlfriend purse their lips (as best one can with a triple piercings in the gum anyway.) I whisked him out of the truck and away from the scene just as the pierced girlfriend was about to tossle his curls. Phew. "Not scary Mama. I no wan scary." I couldn't have agreed
more.

We spotted Peter and Timi on another free round in the bomber planes and despite the cold conditions and his stomach flu, Timi was enthralled by the battle and didn't look in the least bit likely to come down until their winning streak was broken. Parker and I wandered back to the classic cars. I stood their handing the ticket lady her 3 euros so Parker could ride the alpha five more times. It was so ridiculously pricey that I could barely contain my smile when I saw the puddle Parker left in the seat. We were out of pants, so Parker's legs and bum went to lunch clad in the sleeves of his windbreaker.

Timi really put out a good faith effort (all in an effort to get me in the sack I'm sure), but the pig foot at the Schweizerhaus house easily set back his digestion by a week. He groaned the whole way home, and I'm sure the waiters had to have been wondering what was going on
with their least favorite customers when Timi passed Cafe Weimer on the way back to our apartment at a dead run. His only forays out of the WC since have been for more camomile tea and sympathy. Of course I was busy tending to the husband post-Prata that I completely forgot about Parker who was asleep in my bed, until--oops--6pm! You can imagine how bedtime went.

So now it's Sunday, and I can't wait for Monday (I have such fond memories of the years when I prayed for weekends!). But I did manage to duck out for a little relaxing email/photo organizing session at Cafe Weimer, leaving the ill + the unnerving at home building a
gondola out of duplo train tracks.

Leaving Mallorca

It's the final few hours of our weeklong trip to Mallorca with Adam, Sabina and Celestine, visiting Donna, Ella and Simon. We are packing up for our 9pm flight (which we pray won't be disrupted by the volcano in Iceland.)

Parker is very excited to go to the airport and has been busy gathering what he needs. He's placed all his sand toys in his clear backpack, put on his crocs and gathered his horse balloon that he named Blaze. He comes over to me holding the spoon Blaze is tethered to, wearing his backpack, his crocs and nothing else. He tugs me on my leg and says:

"Mama I be ready go to the airport now."

I look him up and down. "Hmmm. Parker don't you think you might be forgetting something."

"Oh yeah!" he lights up. "I need my bunny!"

Right. That's just what I was thinking.

Sweet New Toy

We have a popular new game at our house: candy store. The boys build a candy store out of duplos and we use play money to buy, sell and trade legos which are supposed to represent different kinds of candies.

The game was likely prompted by our new daily indulgence (hey we needed something to get us through winter!): a trip to the candy store across the street from our apartment. It's an old-fashioned kind of candy store, with a traditional candyman just like the one you might imagine selling wonka bars. Parker goes in for the chocolate ambulances, police cars and fire trucks; Peter goes in for chocolate umbrellas and the box of chocolate pencils. I like the truffles.

On the way the other day.

Peter: Parker and I will open a candy store when we grow up.

Me: I thought you wanted to go work for lego.

Peter: Nope. We want a candy store.

Me: Really?

Peter: Yes, you can buy legos there too.

Me: I don't think they'd taste very good.

Peter: They would too because they'd be candy legos. (He's now grinning like the cheshire cat and rapidly conducting speech with his hands.) You could first read the instructions and build the toy with the lego candies. Then when you were tired of playing with it, you'd eat it. You could even eat the instructions because they'd be made of candy too--like a paper candy.

Me: Edible play things. Well, just so long as you make a the fat free variety, I'll support it.

Plea to Lego: One exceptionally enthusiastic 5-year-old apprentice for hire. Feed him, raise him and house him, and he's yours.

Voodoo Economics from a 5-year-old

Peter on the way to school the other day: "Mama how do you lose money?"

Me: "What do you mean by that Peter?"

Peter: "Every time you buy something they give you money back. So you never actually lose any money. We should just buy more stuff and then we'll get more money."

Me: Peter I know you really want to go work for Lego when you grow up, but you might want to reconsider and for a career in government. With thinking like that, you'll be a fine candidate for public office.

the milkman

Me: "Parker where are you going?" (he's naked in the hallway outside our front door about to head down the stairs.)

Parker: "Me going to buy milk now. See ya later."

Parker-isms

Had to jot these down before the moment's lost...

Me: "Look at that huge goldfish in the tank."

Parker: "Cute fish. Parker hold de fish like!"

Me: "Parker do you see the panda bear? It's so big and furry."

Parker: "Parker hold de Panda like!"

Parker: "Parker tummy-ache hurting. Parker need medsin like Panda. Parker have fevra too."

Parker: "Bunny's tummy-ache hurting too."

Peter: "I have to pee"

Parker: "Parker like pee too."

Parker: "Mama help!"

Me: "What is it Parker?"

Parker: "Parker don't know how pee. Mama hold de Penis pwease."

Aunt Barbara: "What are you doing now Parker?"

Parker: "Fly strassenban, uh-uh-uh-uh, 30 minutes, uh-uh-uh-uh, outer space, uh-uh-uh, blast off!"

Me: "What are you doing with your bike?"

Parker: "Bike on couch. Bike like read book too."

Me: "What are you doing with your doll stroller Parker?"

Parker: "Stroller on couch. Stroller like read book too."

Me: "What are you doing with your paper airplanes?"

Parker: "Paper airplanes on couch. Paper airplanes like read book too."

Me: "What are you doing with Peter's scooter?"

Parker: "Scooter on couch. Scooter like read book too."

Me: "What are you doing with that chair?

Parker: "Chair on couch. Chair like read book too."

Me: "Now where are you going? I thought we were reading a book."

Parker: "No book. Parker lay down take nap now. Tired. now. me."

Me: "Parker do you have a dirty diaper?"

Parker: "No Mama. It's just gas."

Me: "Parker that playdough is Micki's. It's his birthday present."

Parker: "No. Parker buy it like. Parker Uh-uh-uh take playdough home uh-uh-uh now. Bye-bye."

Me: "Parker where are you going?" (We are waiting for the subway, and he's heading toward elevator.)

Parker: "No more subway. Me go back home now. Bye-bye."

Me: "What's wrong Parker?"

Parker: "Don't like kiwi. Kiwi go away."

Me: "What's wrong Parker?"

Parker: "Don't like cheese. Cheese go away."

Me: "Parker what's wrong?"

Parker: "Don't like Peter. Peter go away."

Me: "Where do you want Peter to go? He lives here?

Parker: "Peter go Omi's house now. Me stay with Mama."

Me: "What should we do now Parker?"

Parker: "Read a book. Read Parker Rabbit."

Me: "Okay."

Me: "Mr. McGregor jumped up and ran after Peter, waving a rake and calling out, "stop thief!"

Parker: "No. Mama. NO! Mist Gregor run after Parker Rabbit. Parker! Not Peter."

Me: "What's wrong Parker?"

Parker: "Me sad. Parker miss Lindsay."

Me: "I know how you feel."

Me: "What are you doing Parker?"

Parker: "Me like Peter now. Me kiss Peter."

So long for now Mallorca

Peter and Parker enjoy a moment in the town square while their friends Ella and Simon are at school.

Parker takes a farewell run down the red-brick sidewalks which he's grown so fond of.

Donna and Peter fetch the kids from school, and we all meet up at her place for lunch. Peter and Simon decide to play hide-and-seek in the bathroom after lunch and lock themselves in. Always quick on her feet, Ella draws a diagram of the hook and eye latch and shoves it under the door. They still can't figure it out. I thought we were going to have to call the Mallorcan fire department, but Donna shoulders the door and breaks the latch. Phew. We all pile in the car and race off to Ella and Simon's horseback riding lesson.

Ella and Simon are learning to post. Peter watches as they trot around the ring, and begs for a ride too. The riding instructor agrees to let Peter sit on a pony after the lesson, and in the split second I turn my back on Parker to lift Peter onto the saddle, the little guppy disappears.

For my first lap around the stables, I'm nonplussed. The second lap I start to feel a bit unsettled. I yank Peter off the horse and tell him to look for his brother and motion to Donna to look too. Still no Parker. Ella and Simon have joined the hunt. It's dark. There are horses and cars. I'm starting to sweat. Timi and Michael pull up from a solid day climbing.

The walls of my mind are suddenly flooded with images of that couple whose child was kidnapped from their hotel room in Spain two summers ago, and I grab Timi and pound him in the chest: "Parker's gone. What if he's been kidnapped! I can't find him anywhere."

I now have the attention of everybody at the stables, and we're all on the lookout for my two-year-old. A kid signals to Timi that he thinks he spotted bambino behind the back arena. Timi runs back screaming, "Parker, Parker." A little voice pipes up: "Hi Papa. Look Papa horse!"

Still flustered, we spit out hurried goodbye's to our hosts and tossed the midgets in the minivan. The uneventful journey to the airport allowed us to regroup. We arrived a good hour before departure time, plenty of time to fuss around and resort our ample baggage contents.

Not very prudent. At check-in they informed us they'd closed the flight. Timi persuaded them to reopen it, and so we were back on course. We made it through security and read that the flight had been delayed until 8:45, so, our starving family, sat down to supper in Terminal B.

Timi excused himself to go to the men's room and happened to look up at the flight monitor and see a new departure time: 8:20 from A24. He ran back to me to check my phone for the time. It was 8:17.

We gulped down our final bite and all ran helter skelter to the A-terminal. Timi was in the lead, and I sprinted behind pushing the stroller with one hand...the other arm outstretched ready to catch Parker who nearly bobbed off his shoulders at the hairpin turn to the connecting hallway. Thankfully the guppy recovered his balance just in time for Timi to leap onto the moving sidewalk over a small Mallorcan woman and her purple suitcase.

I take a second to glance back at Peter. He' miraculously staying in step behind his long-legged parents, despite complaints of a gimp left leg from a bit of glass in his foot and ample wind resistance from a magician's top hat that's he'd insisted on bringing along on the trip. Well why not. A traveling circus might be a handy explanation for a lot of things.

It's midnight, and we're back in Vienna waiting for our bags. Mallorca was fabulous, but it sure it good to be home safe.