30 Hours in Chicago

I realized my first lapse in writing-something-every-day while dripping wet. We'd been to the hotel pool for the second time. I was disappointed, mildly, at the forgetting, not at the swimming, but also I was surprised that I’d made it well into the second month without a day I forgot or convinced myself I could do without it. Traveling to Chicago, spending the day at the Children’s Museum, swimming, eating Thai food, and falling asleep while watching a movie may have something to do with the forgetting. But Ryan reminded me that when magazines skip a month, they call it a “combined issue”. So here is the first, of probably at least a few, combined issues.

“Look, there is the Hancock where we went today! (Pointing to his Metra Kids’ ticket) I’d never been in the Hancock!” Dietrich announces to whoever can hear him on the train. He’s already asked his neighboring passengers which stop they will be getting out on and telling them we were in Chicago today. An hour and a cheese sandwich ago, he was barely holding it together. It started with a horse on Michigan Avenue whom he was invited to pet. That was welcomed, but the monologue about Madison (I’m a ’68 alum! Are those monkeys still in the zoo? Who was the psychologist doing experiments on them?) was not. Dietrich turned his boredom to scientific inquiry and pulled back on the metal reflector on the hydrant next to us, only to nearly take out the carriage driver’s eye glasses. He felt ashamed to have nearly hurt him, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize. We were embarrassed, of course, but why could not the driver pick up on the very obvious social cues of two boys who were ready to move on already? Why is it the kids’ behavior that gets the blame? He recovered for the most part, but was playing defense the rest of the afternoon. There is nothing quite like visiting the 94th story of the Hancock building with a kid who is on edge.

Elliott’s composure crumbled much later in the afternoon as we were leaving the family center at the Art Institute (Free February!). “There is nothing more we can do today!” Only a train ride back to Harvard, stations to look at and music to listen to (Justin Roberts, who he would like to be). But somehow he walked out to our friends’ car, made it to the train, and a cheese sandwich later, is in the alternative world created by Justin Roberts and his guitar. I write from the Union Pacific North West line today.

Yesterday, we checked in early and the boys romped around our two-room suite while Ryan walked to his conference. I tried to convince them that the diner on the corner, The West Egg, was the perfect place for lunch – French fries! Waffles! – but right next door was their favorite in any city, Chipotle. At least they were well fueled after splitting their usual -- black beans and rice, cheese, sour cream, guac on the side. While I was gathering up our tray, wrappers, and finding coats, two women sitting at a table near us listened to Dietrich tell about our train ride while Elliott talked about his CD player. They seemed pleased to have a kid diversion in their business day.

Maybe my combined issue is that traveling with twin four-year-olds is both more fun than I ever expected, but incredibly hard to predict. So hard that it we won’t get on the train and do it again (maybe in just 3 weeks)? Definitely not. Hard enough that next time we’ll at least plan enough to have dry pants and an extra waterbottle along? Definitely.