It's hard to get my kids out of the apartment, but I still do at least once every weekend. I steel myself for the fight to get them out. Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Like today.

After a couple of hours of tantrums and delays and "oh I didn't know you were waiting", I got the kids in the car to go to Seattle Center. We found parking on the street and walked a block to the children's section of the festival. Whining and dragging his feet, Max struggled with the crowd, smells, sounds, and sun.

We had to wait for 30 mins at the ATM. Max comforted himself by sitting on the ground and focusing on some literature about Pike Place Market, when he wasn't moaning and pacing.

All it took was ice cream, names written on rice, and then fun on the balloon slide, and no more complaining.

Now that the day is over, I think it was a pretty good day. Funny how that works.