Week 62: Porsche 914

This week's tiny car features a classy two-seater favorite of mine, the Porsche 914, in tribute to a recent yet rare morning spent alone with my youngest son, Baby G, who is two and a half.

Even though money is tight, this past week Baby G and I managed to go to an amusement park AND dance party, where he invented a new percussion instrument. We complemented our adventures with a gourmet meal out. We were living large.

Of course the above description is being spun from G's perspective. From mine, we went to a local fast food joint to weather the sour weather outside, where I let Baby G play in their claustrophobic Fun Zone with a hamster-tube slide, all the while worrying about how many germs he surely must be climbing over.

We ate chicken blobs and fries after washing our hands in the restroom, where he danced to piped-in music (I think to a Buddy Holly song). While G was dancing around, he stepped on a circular metal drain on the floor which clanked loudly, and, after stomping on the grate a couple of times, he began overlaying the songs (yes, we stayed in the bathroom for at least three songs) with some sick beats.

"We're at a DANCE PARTY!" he exclaimed with a smile so real, eyes so sparkly and dance moves so natural that for a fleeting moment I actually believed we were at a dance party. Maybe we were.

Back at the Fun Zone I forgot my previously set limitations of "we're only going to stay for a short time" and we stayed for most of the morning. He never became bored, and over the course of the morning he was a truck driver, The Hulk, Sonic the Hedgehog, a mountain climber, and what I can only surmise was some type of primate or rain forest marsupial.

At the beginning he had trouble climbing up onto the padded ledge to get to the upper level, so I told him to use my arm as a ladder. While I couldn't fit in the Fun Zone, I could manage to stick my arm in if I leaned at an awkward angle, thus allowing G to step onto my forearm and then onto the upper deck. After that, he would go around the small circuit, down the tiny slide, and return to the entry area. Each time he would say, "Dada, need arm-as-ladder." After multiple circuits, the request had decreased from five words to three as a new single-word noun was invented - armasladder.

Even leaving was perfect, with no tears or tantrums when time to go, an occurrence, when it happens, that any parent relishes. Memories of the most perfect day at the park, party, play area or visit to grandma can be obliterated from a parent's mind by the end-of-play blow-out, but not this time. Baby G even said goodbye to the fun zone area itself and "tank you" to one of the employees on our way out.

Everything was perfect to him, and because of that, perfect to me, even if I was unable to see reality and only a dirty, tiny play area and bathroom. That his eyes could see the truth was enough.

Photo of Porsche 914 (did I mention this is a favorite of mine?), courtesy of Phil Pekarcik.


Note on blog  format: I have reverted back to the old format from the dynamic one I have been using for the past month for a few reasons. Even though I liked the magazine-style format that showcased the photos better, a few readers said they preferred not needing to click into the story to get the full blog, and the old format did not allow me to use the Etsy widget to highlight the vintage items from my shop at Nickadizzy nor any of the other plugins which a few folks said they liked.