It was perfect too since we were on a chopstick mission this week. For The Monster's birthday dinner (on the day of) she chose sushi. After the forced affection and delivery of our Pocky and the carved orange we set down to eat. The girls had pieces of sashimi and a pile of edamame.
All was well until she got frustrated with the chopsticks. It was not dissimilar to her attempts to ride the tricycle. If she can do it easily all is well the world. Rainbows appear and choirs appear to be singing just for her. But if it is even the tiniest bit difficult then the thunderheads arrive instantaneously and she throws aside her pride and her effort to pout. Oh yeah, we're going to have fun with her in life.
So it was with the chopsticks. She tried them the way Hubby showed her. No luck. She tried the way she thought they should work. Nope. So she flounced back in her chair, ignoring even the edamame, and pouted. Crossing our fingers we asked if they had kid-friendly chopsticks. MacGyver would have been proud of these take-out chopsticks configured with an elastic band and bit of paper towel. And a chopsticks superstar was born.
Her natural curiosity - I wonder where she got that? - carried her through just fine. It was funny to me that the crowds, new smells and sights, and people selling on the street were just fine to her, but the bustle and noise of the traffic on the main roads of downtown actually terrified her. She had an abject fear that a truck would run her over. Sure, she can randomly run into the basement of a strange building because it has a funky ramp, but a dump trunk is going to jump the curb and squish her. Is that just a three year old thing?
You can only just make it out above, but they also had a variety of houseplants for sale - in pots, plastic tubs, or margarine containers. It was like they transported their houseplants to the street to share with everyone. If I liked houseplants I definitely would buy from them.
That being said, I knew this place and couldn't resist taking lunch home for Hubby. Oh, the Thi Thi sub... excuse me while I mop my forehead from the heat and wipe the drool from the side of my mouth. Sadly, the girls stuck to their steamed buns while Hubby and I sweated over our subs. Yeah, thanks again taxman.