No, not that Parthenon. I'm talking about the one right here in Nashville. The sudden onset of illness (other people's, not ours) thwarted our plans for a play date, so the little guys and I decided to go for a picnic at Daddy's Work Park. In addition to such glamorous skills as middle-of-the-night-puke-cleaner and kid-briber (seriously, there's more graft going on in this house than in the whole of the former Soviet Union), I am also quite proficient in translating kid-speak. For our purposes, Daddy's Work Park means Centennial Park, because Mike works within walking distance of the park.
|Holding hands was their idea, not mine.|
We made a beeline straight for the train engine and the "sock plane", and oohed and ahhhed over how big (and rusty and bird-poopy) they are.
Now, we are Peanuts Gang people at the HOB. We watch a Snoopy special every time the seasons change or there's a holiday. Combine that with Will's inherited (from Mike) talent of screwing up song lyrics and all manner of colloquialisms, and you get "sock plane" instead of Sopwith Camel, Snoopy the WWI Flying Ace's airplane.
|People were afraid to get too close, lest the plane fall and smoosh them.|
The doors of the Parthenon have lions sculpted on them. Consequently, none of us would go near them, because, duh, they might come alive and eat us. But don't let that possibility deter you from visiting. Just bring your lion-taming gear.