Kids

The hotel in which I’m staying is surrounded by bakeries. Seriously, it seems as if you cannot go a block without passing at least two of them, on each side of the street. I can only assume that people in the government building district must eat a LOT of pastries. Perhaps this explains a lot of things.

Anyway. I’ve taken to lurking in the one nearest the hotel each morning, nursing the largest coffee I can get my hands on, while nibbling on a pastry of my own, and sometimes also knitting (the knitting takes place after the pastry is consumed, of course, as it would be unwise to mix the two of those activities). I’ve found the perfect place to lurk – in a tiny little alcove in the back that enables me to both eavesdrop on the other bakery customers, and also people-watch out the huge windows to the street outside.

This morning my favorite conversation was between a small curly-haired child and his father. I’m not sure what age the boy was, as I’m horrid at estimating that sort of thing, but I am going to guess less than 10. Anyway, it was clear that his class was going to be visiting the White House, because he was asking his dad a lot of questions. He had a lot of concerns, like whether or not they would actually get to see the President, and whether or not the President had boys or girls (girls, his dad told him. Are you sure? he asked, quite insistent that he’d seen a picture of the President with some little boys. Quite sure, the dad replied. The little boy seemed a be put out by this, which I found very amsuing). The most pressing question, however, was what if he had to go to the bathroom while he was there. They will let you use their bathroom, his dad reassured him. This seemed to get the little guy very excited – the possibility of getting to pee in the same place as the president.

And this is the awesome thing about little kids. They can always find a way to get excited about the most mundane of things.

Blogging from A to Z in whatever order I feel like.

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