Family "Fun"

Thanks to the endless rabbit hole of children's programming available on Netflix streaming (and to my lax parenting standards when it comes to iPad use), Brennan developed a fondness for a show called "Old MacDonald's Farm".  He took to carrying around a small plastic cow and sharing important cow facts, such as "cows have bags that make milk".  This was fairly exciting for Mommy - after roughly 2 years of pretending to find Thomas the Train and construction equipment fascinating, here was an interest I could get behind.

After a few afternoons of making "hay" for the cow from courtyard weeds, I decided to take it to the next level and drag the whole family to "Farm Days" at Deer Hollow Farm.  There was going to be cow-milking, egg-holding, baby goat petting fun in a pre-schooler friendly, short attention span setting. 

However, I failed to anticipate the following:
1. Los Altos is subject to this exotic season known as "summer".
2. Deer Hollow Farm is reached by walking one mile in from the parking lots at  Rancho San Antonio Open Space Preserve.
3. Said parking lots are pretty much full by 10:30.
4. While pre-schoolers are really interested in farm animals, toddlers really prefer plopping down on the ground and picking up goat poop.

There was indeed egg-holding and baby goat petting (although the cow-milking was a total hoax - there was a solitary cow "on break" when we arrived, never to shift from her lazy cow repose) - but not much photographic evidence.  The Rancho San Antonio seems to draw a pretty dedicated crowd of South Asian programmers, sights set on quality "family time" with kids, parents, friends, friends' kids and parents - and a particularly humorless breed of outdoor-sports enthusiasts I imagine to be native Californians.  By the time we'd navigated the parking lot (Daddy had to give up, drop us, and find street parking), the remarkably hot, sunny trail (Daddy's trail included some extra hill-climbing), and this one's crabby mood and love of goat poop:

I was exhausted and hated 93% of humanity.  Brennan, however, had a pretty good time, minus one giant meltdown at the end when we declined to jockey for space in the picnic barn.  He still talks about finding eggs in the chicken nests and holding them.  The high point for Daddy was when we returned to the city, grabbed some really good tacos from the El Huarache Loco truck, and ate them in the car while both kids were sleeping in the back seat.  Mommy's favorite part came the next day, when Brennan recapped the day to Uncle Gavin & Aunt Amy via FaceTime, ending with, "And the goats were pooping EVERYWHERE!"

Around the same time that "Old MacDonald's Farm" hit the number one spot on our Recently Viewed queue, Brennan also expressed interest in the YMCA's Pee-Wee Sports T-ball "class".  In retrospect, I realize he just likes being around Coach Josh, aka, the nice guy in charge of the Y's Jungle Gym program who is willing to pull Brennan in a wagon at high speeds around the Letterman Gym.  However, Daddy was probably just as relieved when sports came up as I was to talk animal husbandry.  So we signed him up.

No, he's not running bases.  He's just running.  Turns out, 3 and a 1/2 may be a bit young for team sports.  It is exactly the right age for kicking up dust, ignoring directions, forcing your embarrassed mother to run with you, and wearing 3rd base as a hat.

Lucie Bean, however, may be a natural.

There were moments of fun - see above - but there were a lot more moments of whining, crying, and negotiating, culminating in the day we got stuck on the wrong side of the Bay to Breakers race and couldn't get home.  That day, unfortunately, was the day after Farm Day.  Recounting my weekend to a work friend with a son roughly Brennan's age, she confessed she & her husband avoid a lot of this stuff.  "Family fun" is their code name for excruciating, crowded activities that turn out to be nowhere near worth the effort it takes to get through it.

So, lesson learned.  Rather than expect children to share our interests, it's probably easier to love what they love, or find simpler things we can both enjoy.  Like Whac-a-mole.