At one point when I was a kid, I remember wondering why there wasn’t a designated “Children’s Day” like a Mother’s or Father’s Day.

Every day is children’s day, my Mom told me.

Touche, mama.

At the new Rock Stars, Cars, and Guitars exhibit at the Children’s Museum on Friday, Pitter sat on a beloved motorcycle.

When do I get to ride a motorcycle, Mom? he asks constantly.
Never! I whisper under my breath. Nevermind that I have been on them myself.

Patter does karoke:

And then plays hippie-kid dressup:

On Saturday, we all waded through the 95% humidity soup and hit the PBS Kid’s Day in the Park downtown.

Patter tries to make sense of Cheep and Quack or whoever the hell these guys are:

Pitter looks nonplussed to meet Princess Presto. I donno. I don’t know why she didn’t bring her magic wand. (She looks a little dazed herself, too.)

And finally, we have Patter curiously approaching Martha the Talking Dog.

Did you spend your weekend ferrying small people around from one fabulous adventure to another? Or did you go to a cafe for dinner and enjoy a bottle of wine, hit a movie, and then enjoy a jazz brunch on Sunday?

Do tell.

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