Yesterday we had a fun day planned for our little family. We would wake up early, take the BART train into the city, then catch a cable car to Pier 39 to see the sea lions. Simple enough, right? Not incredibly ambitious? LOL. Nothing is ever simple with a two year old.
The BART ride was great. Frida is obsessed with choo choos, so it was heaven for her. But when we arrived at Powell Station to take the cable car, the line wrapped around to infinity. There was no way she’d wait for this mass of humanity without incident. So we decided to walk to Pier 39, and take the cable car back. It wasn’t a bad walk! Great exercise, and to reward ourselves, we stopped in North Beach for a gelato. This is where the trouble started.
It’s hard to pinpoint what instigated the shrieking, stiff-body tantrum that occurred on Columbus Avenue’s sidewalk yesterday. But it was easy as pie to see, and even easier to hear (I do hope you were not there). The main problem from what I can decipher: I thought my daughter and I would share two scoops of gelato from a single dish. DO NOT make the mistake of “sharing” a frozen dessert with a toddler unless you enjoy the challenge of retrieving a writhing, distressed small human from underneath a cafe table in public.
We headed for Washington Square Park to shake that off. Frida enjoyed running around, staring at the Tai Chi practitioners, the gelato incident forgotten. We pushed reset and headed to Pier 39. She loved the sea lions and I loved sitting on the bench to rest my sore feet while Kourosh showed her the noisy, stinky (wow so stinky!) animals. Then we spotted the carousel. How lovely. A ride on it obviously had to happen. I put Frida on her own horse. She was delighted. For about 90 seconds. “Done,” she said.
“The ride just started!” I smiled and tried to reason with her (if you ever have a bunch of time to waste a good thing to try is reasoning with a toddler). “Done” is usually followed by severe unhappiness at the dinner table if the declaration is not quickly followed by booster-seat release. So I thought OK I’ll just move her into one of those little carriages with seats and she’ll be happy. But the carriage was actually a goddam teacup with its own spinning mechanism. Who puts a teacup on a carousel? The ride was spinning and the teacup was spinning and the operator came over to inform me that the situation was dangerous which thanks I had just figured out.
To make things even more dangerous Frida immediately tried to escape from the teacup and began crying when I wouldn’t let her. And by “crying” I mean wailing with a few tears thrown in for authenticity’s sake. 30 seconds later the ride was over and she howled (yes I used a thesaurus to find more words meaning “scream”) harder and louder when I picked her up to take her off the ride.
I handed her over the railing to the husband while I tried to find the exit to my circular equine torture chamber. One of the horses was actually a giant, terrifying bunny. I excited and headed towards the screaming child sounds, but ran into a comedic stage performance that butted up against the carousel. I couldn’t go all the way around, I had to switch directions. But before I did, I had the pleasure of noticing that my husband and noisy child had stolen the entire audience’s attention from the poor juggler onstage.
I ran around the carousel in the other direction and finally found them. Frida could not be consoled until we found an Elmo puppet. I won’t even bother describing what happened when we tried to walk away from said puppet.
No one was in any shape to wrangle a cable car ride, so we had a nice long walk to the Embarcadero BART, licking our wounds and praying Frida would fall asleep in the stroller (she didn’t). We passed dozens of runners who, if their bibs and medals were any indication, had just finished the SF Marathon. We were baffled by how spry they were, laughing and skipping down the sidewalk. When I ran the SF Marathon I had to stay home from work the next day because I literally could not walk; Kourosh had a similar experience. The husband began channeling the happy marathoners: “La Dee Da! Another day, another marathon! Wanna go for a jog? Oh, I forgot my wallet at the start, I think I’ll run back and get it!” I was laughing, and Frida started in with her own “DAH DEE DA!” Joy happened, even though my feet hurt more than the marathoners’ seemed to. And this is why we’ll probably do some version of this all over again next weekend.
What we’re wearing: Citizens of Humanity jeans, similar here; T by Alexander Wang shirt, similar here; Freda Salvador shoes (sold out, similar here); vintage Missoni sunglasses, similar here. On Frida: Yo Baby dress, similar here; Shoes of Soul shoes, similar here (If you’re looking for less-expensive options, check out Zulily where I but pretty much all of Frida’s clothes!).