MOA adventures

Tonight, x days before __ is born, we ventured to the Mall of America ("MOA"). We don't often go there, as good organic-fruit-buying Minneapolis-dwellers, but wanted to 1) escape Derek's fierce spring allergies, 2) get some exercise suitable for a 9-month pregnant woman (slow walking), and 3) indulge Mer's longing for the "monkey-restaurant," known to others as the Rainforest Cafe, which features animatronic monkeys, simulated thunderstorms, and other preschooler delights (as well as food).

On the drive down, we followed our usual iPod ritual where we take turns selecting the song. After Meredith chose "D is For Drums" (They Might Be Giants' kids' album), I chose "Tangled Up In Blue" (the Indigo Girls version), and we had - I kid you not - a 15-minute conversation about what it means to be tangled up in blue. Blue thread?, Mer thought. Derek spoke eloquently and at a preschool level about having lots of different sad feelings at once. I realized I've never really known what Bob Dylan meant - assuming he meant something definable at all. Anyway, Mer remained unsatisfied. Metaphors are a bit beyond her, still. She then chose the Cartman (South Park) version of "Come Sail Away," a hilarious and highly irritating song that she calls simply 'the weird song.'

At the mall, there were gazillions of people, which there always are. And, it should not have been surprising that many of them had also been drawn to the animatronic charms of the Rainforest Cafe; there was an hour and 40 min wait for a table for three. No, thanks. Mer said goodbye to the huge snake over the door with a mix of sadness and fear - tangled up, perhaps - and we headed for points unknown in the top floor of the mall: the food court. There, we staked out a table to dine overlooking the whirling clamor of the indoor amusement park in the middle of the mall, formerly known as Camp Snoopy.

I ordered some burgers and such from Johnny Rockets and received a Applebees-style device that would buzz when our food was ready. This should have been a sign. Ten minutes later it was an hour past usual dinnertime and the three-year-old and the pregnant woman were both almost despondent with hunger. Derek created complex fantasies about forest animals, and Mer gamely played along. At twenty minutes she was twirling in circles dangerously close to other tables. At twenty-five minutes the buzzer went off! but it was a false alarm! Oh, when? Finally, after thirty-five minutes we got so-called fast food which was quite good; next time, we'll try somewhere else, maybe Mexican where all they have to do is compile it and hand it to you. As soon as we started digging in, Mer announced she had to go potty, precipitating a 10-min journey.

Actually, though, we all enjoyed watching the Ferris wheel and the hordes of people from above, and after dinner wandered down through the park formerly known as Camp Snoopy. It was a hectic scene but also relaxing, probably because we actually didn't have anywhere else to be for once. We can just enjoy each other each day and take each day at a time as we wait for the new addition to our family to drastically change our routine. Any day now.