We usually do our best to give the kids at least some say in our plans while on vacation, so on Saturday we let Alison choose and we ventured back downtown to visit the Space Needle. Built for the World's Fair in 1962, the Space Needle is it once anachronistic and iconic. It's dwarfed by the surrounding skyline, but it still somehow manages to draw the eye away from the rest of the buildings in the city. The weather this week has been phenomenal, and even the employees were talking about what a great day it was to visit as the crystal clear skies offered spectacular views from atop the 520 foot elevation of the observation deck. We watched people frolicking in the International Fountain far below us, followed the paths of the ferries churning towards Bainbridge Island, identified the baseball and football stadiums nestled on the outskirts of downtown, marveled at pontoon planes landing and taking off from the surrounding waters, and pointed towards Mt. Ranier rising in the north. It was a nearly perfect day. If there was a blemish, it was Kate's meltdown after we descended from the observation deck. The elevator conveniently opens up into a large gift shop, and Kate immediately spotted something she wanted, a stuffed bear in an astronaut suit. We said no. She dissolved. She cried for at least twenty minutes, and her behavior strike continued even after the tears stopped. On Saturday night we visited an old college friend of mine, and the car rides back and forth were filled with bickering from curb to curb. Completely at a loss, I found myself wondering how we would ever regain control of our wayward brood, when it happened. Genius appears mysteriously and often without warning. I imagine that Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison and Madame Curie all had assistants who sat idly by in the wake of such genius, and so it was with me. Just as the arguments in the backseat were reaching a fever pitch, Leslie held up her phone and made an announcement. "Listen Henry and Kate," for they were the main offenders, "I have something to show you." I glanced away from the road to see a smiling picture of Kate topped by five empty stars on the screen of Leslie's iPhone. "When you're being good,I'll fill in one of these stars." And to demonstrate, she gently tapped the first star, turning it gold. Instant silence. Not only was discipline possible, it turns out there's an app for that. The biggest surprise is that I didn't crash the car right then and there. I would've been no less surprised had she produced a magic wand and turned the children into pillars of salt. When I looked at her in the passenger's seat beside me, I could've sworn that she was glowing, much like a saint in a Renaissance painting. Just when I thought I couldn't love her any more than I already did...
That's awesome! We have the same meltdowns, and we can handle them at home with timeouts, but that would be great when we're out. What is the app?
Posted by: Violet | August 20, 2010 at 06:53 AM
It's called iReward. There are more elaborate ones out there, but this one does the job for us.
Posted by: Hank | August 21, 2010 at 09:09 AM