I'm an expert on playgrounds. Swings, slides, you name it, I've done them. So I'm glad that New York, as the Times reports, is building a fancy new one with sandboxes featuring ropes and pulleys, wheelbarrows, milk crates and other strange stuff. I like to indulge my inner child, which in my case is the same as my outer child. But get a load of this: the kids will be guided by a staff of "play workers." I mean, really! I don't need some grownup telling me how to run around or build a sand castle. And we don't need to be putting these people on the government payroll, where my taxes--well, once I get a job--will pay their salary. This belongs in the Hall of Fame for dumb ideas.
I had my pink outfit on this morning--pink leotard, pink tights, pink shoes--and was all ready to go to dance class when my mom got worried that I might spill my yogurt on my clothes. How humiliating! I mean, I'm 2 already! But it gave me the idea for a title when I publish my collection of blog posts as a best-selling book: "Ballerina in a Bib." Watch for it on Amazon.