After school yesterday, AJ and I joined several members of his class at a local establishment known as Dinorex, kind of a cross between an amusement park, a playground, a video arcade, and the ninth circle of hell. Still, it was worth the nine gazillion dollars they charged for entrance fees, tokens and crappy food to see AJ tearing around the place with a big grin on his face. The indoor roller coaster got high marks from AJ. Although my favorite moment was watching him and his friend D. go head to head against some bigger boys on the bumper cars and come out on top. "That was fun!" was all AJ had to say on the matter.

Unfortunately so much fun for him in the afternoon resulted in boy-from-hell by nightfall. I don�t believe a single word besides "No" and "I don�t want to" emerged from his mouth after 4 p.m. Several tantrums into the evening, we finally gave up and put him to bed without any stories or songs, whereupon he wailed piteously and subsequently fell into a post-tantrum coma and slept until morning.

His mood was somewhat, if not entirely, improved this morning and so we packed our bags and left early for a drive downtown to see the sights. We had no particular agenda today, other than showing AJ a good time. And he aimed to please. On the drive down he exclaimed over the utility flags by the side of the road, swooned at the airplanes flying over the highway, waved cheerfully at kids in neighboring cars and read to himself from a book about the human body ("Mommy, what�s fair skin?").

When we arrived in the Loop, he admired the parking job and its pseudo-ethnic, floor-identifying music. He peered into every street grate in hopes of locating the subway, or at least some ABC gum. He slid down the Picasso statue in Daley Plaza, made a wish with a penny in the fountain in Marshall Field�s, where he also rode up the escalators and down again and then up again and down once more. After we tired of ups and downs, we headed over to Millennium Park to show AJ the face fountains. Unfortunately, they are not quite as fun as they were last summer. The faces no longer fade from one to the next � they are set apart by video of plants hanging over a waterfall, and the faces don�t change as frequently as they did when I viewed them last summer � "every thirteen minutes" a security guard informed us. They do still smile and wink and spit water, but I was slightly disappointed. AJ, however, was not. It was the only fifteen-minute block where he was still all day. Afterwards we cut through the Lurie garden (where AJ made another wish in the miniature canal with a penny that was nearly swallowed by an overly ambitious duck) and wound our way over the serpentine bridge toward what was once the prairie gardens, past the ice rink where I used to skate in the winter and on to the shady playground for recess.

When AJ could stand no more swinging and sliding, we cut through the garden behind the BP building and headed toward Michigan Avenue and the river, with a brief rest stop at the Fairmont Hotel, in search of water taxis. They do not, however, run on Saturdays, so we contented ourselves with waving at sightseeing boats and playing hide and seek. We then took a cab ride � the first AJ can remember � up to the Drake Hotel where we dined in the wonderfully unfashionable Cape Cod Room, where the waiters dress as ship captains and are wonderfully courteous and kind to the few children that manage to find their way into the dark basement corner of the hotel. We sat in a booth next to a false window with a trompe l�oeuil view of some impressionistic boats tied to a pier and played "I-Spy" with all the sea creatures and diving paraphernalia that covered the walls. AJ ate an enormous amount of bread and a very small amount of noodles, while my husband stirred sherry into his Bookbinders Soup and I devoured my Thai shrimp salad and washed it down with a decadent midday viognier. Thus refreshed, we ventured out blinking into the sunlight and headed east in search of Children in Paradise bookstore, quite possibly the only children�s bookstore in the world playing Janacek operas as background music, where AJ investigated every single item (nothing was good enough) and vowed to return for story time in the tantalizing loft story room. We then took AJ on his first subway ride since babyhood. He covered his ears, but delighted in everything but the noise and will repeat to you, without being asked, exactly how many stops we went as well as where we got on and off.

A last stroll toward the car took us by Chagall�s The Four Seasons, which failed to impress the artist responsible for the majority of our kitchen d�cor, but which I never tire of looking at. AJ was more interested in the giant clock across the plaza with a giant number 1 on it. Feeling as if we�d accomplished all we could before naptime, we returned to our car and headed to AJ�s Grandma�s, where no one was able to sleep and got crabbier and crabbier and then left, hopefully before we outstayed our welcome.

There are pictures to be posted, but unfortunately the desire to post them is not sufficient to prise my ass from its current resting place to get the camera and necessary cordage, so you will have to wait.

I bid you good night.

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