asked Rowena.
"A model!" said Alistaire impatiently. "We're going to a museum, not a zoo." Rowena made a face at Alistaire. I was glad to see that. Sometimes children who are too polite and proper are scary.
Before we reached the museum, though, we were distracted by a street fair.
"Cool! Look at that!" exclaimed Stacey, pointing down a side street.
1 saw that two blocks had been roped off. Stalls and stands were set up along both sides of the street. A woman was selling balloons. Kids were walking around with Popsicles and cotton candy. A small Ferris wheel was operating at the end of the second block.
"May we go to the fair? Please?" cried Alistaire.
"Please?" added Rowena.
Stacey and I looked at each other. "Why not?" I said.
"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed the children.
As usual, the Harringtons had given Stacey and me plenty of spending money. The four of us roamed the stalls, examining the "rummage" items for sale. (Rowena wanted to buy a music box, but it cost more than a hundred dollars. "It's a genuine antique," a man assured us, but I knew better than to buy a hundred-dollar toy without the Harringtons' permission.) "I'm thirsty," Alistaire announced, so we stood on a line to buy lemonade.
Nearby was a man wearing sunglasses and a rain hat. He was looking around the fair. Lots of families had come to the fair, but plenty of people had come alone, too. (I didn't think I would enjoy a fair alone.) When we had paid for our lemonades (and they were expensive, as lemonades go) we walked around some more. Stacey bought balloons for the children. "You can't take them into the museum, though," she warned them.
"That's all right! That's all right!" said Ro-wena. "We'll tie them to something outside and get them when we're done." Alistaire and Rowena finished their drinks. They rode the Ferris wheel. (The man in the hat and sunglasses watched them from a distance, smiling. I smiled, too. The kids were shrieking with delight.) After their ride, we left the fair.
"How do you like my pet dog?" Rowena asked as the four of us walked slowly toward the museum.
"Your what?" I said. I was holding one of her hands. In her other hand was her balloon. It bobbed along beside us.
"My pet dog," Rowena said again. She pointed to the balloon. "See him? He's on his leash. His name is ... Travis. Travis Balloon." "My balloon is a cat," said Alistaire. "Fat Cat. He likes to walk on his leash." "Very nice," I pronounced.
"They're not really animals," Rowena whispered to me. "Just make-believe." "Oh," I whispered back. "Thank you." Near the museum, Stacey and I spotted a bicycle rack. "We'll tie your . . . pets to the rack/' said Stacey.
"But I think you should know/' I added, "that your pets might be gone by the time we get back here." "Why?" asked Alistaire.
Why? Because sometimes things are stolen. But how could I explain that to a seven-year-old and a four-year-old? Luckily I didn't have to.
"Because pets run away," Rowena informed her brother.
"Oh. Right." Whew.
Inside the museum, Stacey, Alistaire, Rowena, and I headed directly for the dinosaurs. Alistaire was awed. "Look at all those skeletons," he said reverently. "How brilliant." "Bones, bones, bones," sang Rowena. "Is that what we look like inside?" "No, silly!" cried Alistaire, but I wasn't paying much attention to him. I had just turned around and spotted a man in sunglasses and a rain hat ambling around the doorway to the room we had entered.
"What is that? A new style?" I said aloud.
"Huh?" replied Stacey.
"Every other man I've seen today is wearing a rain hat and a pair of sunglasses. I wonder why this guy is wearing sunglasses indoors." Stacey shrugged. "Hey, this is New York. Anything goes." We poked around the museum until the kids grew bored. Then we rode an elevator to the bottom floor and looked around the gift shop. Alistaire bought a T-shirt with a picture of a stegasaurus on the front. Rowena bought . . . That's funny. I can't remember what she bought. Maybe that's because it was
"A model!" said Alistaire impatiently. "We're going to a museum, not a zoo." Rowena made a face at Alistaire. I was glad to see that. Sometimes children who are too polite and proper are scary.
Before we reached the museum, though, we were distracted by a street fair.
"Cool! Look at that!" exclaimed Stacey, pointing down a side street.
1 saw that two blocks had been roped off. Stalls and stands were set up along both sides of the street. A woman was selling balloons. Kids were walking around with Popsicles and cotton candy. A small Ferris wheel was operating at the end of the second block.
"May we go to the fair? Please?" cried Alistaire.
"Please?" added Rowena.
Stacey and I looked at each other. "Why not?" I said.
"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed the children.
As usual, the Harringtons had given Stacey and me plenty of spending money. The four of us roamed the stalls, examining the "rummage" items for sale. (Rowena wanted to buy a music box, but it cost more than a hundred dollars. "It's a genuine antique," a man assured us, but I knew better than to buy a hundred-dollar toy without the Harringtons' permission.) "I'm thirsty," Alistaire announced, so we stood on a line to buy lemonade.
Nearby was a man wearing sunglasses and a rain hat. He was looking around the fair. Lots of families had come to the fair, but plenty of people had come alone, too. (I didn't think I would enjoy a fair alone.) When we had paid for our lemonades (and they were expensive, as lemonades go) we walked around some more. Stacey bought balloons for the children. "You can't take them into the museum, though," she warned them.
"That's all right! That's all right!" said Ro-wena. "We'll tie them to something outside and get them when we're done." Alistaire and Rowena finished their drinks. They rode the Ferris wheel. (The man in the hat and sunglasses watched them from a distance, smiling. I smiled, too. The kids were shrieking with delight.) After their ride, we left the fair.
"How do you like my pet dog?" Rowena asked as the four of us walked slowly toward the museum.
"Your what?" I said. I was holding one of her hands. In her other hand was her balloon. It bobbed along beside us.
"My pet dog," Rowena said again. She pointed to the balloon. "See him? He's on his leash. His name is ... Travis. Travis Balloon." "My balloon is a cat," said Alistaire. "Fat Cat. He likes to walk on his leash." "Very nice," I pronounced.
"They're not really animals," Rowena whispered to me. "Just make-believe." "Oh," I whispered back. "Thank you." Near the museum, Stacey and I spotted a bicycle rack. "We'll tie your . . . pets to the rack/' said Stacey.
"But I think you should know/' I added, "that your pets might be gone by the time we get back here." "Why?" asked Alistaire.
Why? Because sometimes things are stolen. But how could I explain that to a seven-year-old and a four-year-old? Luckily I didn't have to.
"Because pets run away," Rowena informed her brother.
"Oh. Right." Whew.
Inside the museum, Stacey, Alistaire, Rowena, and I headed directly for the dinosaurs. Alistaire was awed. "Look at all those skeletons," he said reverently. "How brilliant." "Bones, bones, bones," sang Rowena. "Is that what we look like inside?" "No, silly!" cried Alistaire, but I wasn't paying much attention to him. I had just turned around and spotted a man in sunglasses and a rain hat ambling around the doorway to the room we had entered.
"What is that? A new style?" I said aloud.
"Huh?" replied Stacey.
"Every other man I've seen today is wearing a rain hat and a pair of sunglasses. I wonder why this guy is wearing sunglasses indoors." Stacey shrugged. "Hey, this is New York. Anything goes." We poked around the museum until the kids grew bored. Then we rode an elevator to the bottom floor and looked around the gift shop. Alistaire bought a T-shirt with a picture of a stegasaurus on the front. Rowena bought . . . That's funny. I can't remember what she bought. Maybe that's because it was
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