Mom, are you sure you know where you’re going?

My children have absolutely no faith in my navigational skills.  You get lost in Rome one time, one stinking time and all confidence is lost.

Yesterday we met the C-man’s friend B at the Lincoln Park zoo.  My sister and her boys joined us for the afternoon.   We took the El and then a bus and it worked out fine.  After the zoo The C-man went home with B and we made plans for The Princess and I to join them for dinner later that evening.  All the way there last night The Princess kept asking me “is this our stop?  Is it this one?  This one?  Do you know where we need to get off the bus mom?”  I kept saying “trust me, I know what I’m doing” but to no avail.  Apparently she was convinced that without my sister’s guidance we would end up in the middle of Lake Michigan.  Jeez.

You would think that after successfully getting to and from the near north side last night the children would have relaxed.  No. 

This morning on the El we had a little adventure.  The train stopped for no apparent reason between stations.  An automated voice announced that our operator had left the train momentarily.  A few minutes later the driver came through the train and announced that we would now be an express train to some stop down the line.  The children were flipping out asking what we would do if we had to get off the train.  I tried explaining that we didn’t have to do anything but wait for the next train.  They were not reassured.  Of course it all turned out fine, and we didn’t even have to change trains. 

We spent a lovely day at the Art Institute seeing the Edvard Munch exhibit.  We also saw the Greek and Roman collections, because we just can’t get enough of that stuff.  Then we got a cab up to the Hard Rock Café.  Of course before we could leave the museum we had to check out the gift shop.  Unfortunately the gift shop seems to be under construction and is much much smaller than usual.  To say the children were disappointed in the selection would be an understatement.

The Hard Rock Café to the rescue!  Overpriced hamburgers for everyone!  Except, of course, the Princess, she had chicken.  Funnily enough, the Hard Rock Café has a gift shop too.  Well what do you know?  Both children found punk rock beanie baby-type bears.  They have Mohawks.  And tattoos.  Classy.  But they were spending their own money so what could I do?  I debated getting an old school Hard Rock t-shirt for myself, but came to my senses before money changed hands.

They grilled me all the way back to the El, and then asked six or eight dozen times if I was sure I knew how to get back to my sister’s from our stop.  I never led them astray as much as a block, and they still don’t trust me.  It’s so discouraging. 

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