I did think of something to say.
The favorite exhibit at the SICM, by far, is the fire truck. They have a real firetruck kids can climb in and pretend to drive, a fire safety video looping all day long, firefighter coats and hats to change into, and a pole to slide down. It's great fun - the kids all love it.
And on the wall there's a sign. The exhibit is in memory of the husband of one of the people who work at the museum, who died, with much or all of his crew, on 9/11.
I have walked past that sign several times a week for over a year now, and I haven't given it much thought. Ana, of course, has no clue. She just thinks the exhibit is great fun, and it is.
But one day, she's going to have to know what happened in her own city. And whenever she finds out, I think we're going to have to explain a lot things to her - the memorial at Battery Park, the lights every year, and yes, the significance of that firetruck.
And I don't want to be the one to do it. She can't be a baby forever, but I don't want to be the one telling her that part of her babyhood was playing around on a firetruck in memory of a real person who died. She'll have to know one day, but she's not my kid. It doesn't have to be me.
The favorite exhibit at the SICM, by far, is the fire truck. They have a real firetruck kids can climb in and pretend to drive, a fire safety video looping all day long, firefighter coats and hats to change into, and a pole to slide down. It's great fun - the kids all love it.
And on the wall there's a sign. The exhibit is in memory of the husband of one of the people who work at the museum, who died, with much or all of his crew, on 9/11.
I have walked past that sign several times a week for over a year now, and I haven't given it much thought. Ana, of course, has no clue. She just thinks the exhibit is great fun, and it is.
But one day, she's going to have to know what happened in her own city. And whenever she finds out, I think we're going to have to explain a lot things to her - the memorial at Battery Park, the lights every year, and yes, the significance of that firetruck.
And I don't want to be the one to do it. She can't be a baby forever, but I don't want to be the one telling her that part of her babyhood was playing around on a firetruck in memory of a real person who died. She'll have to know one day, but she's not my kid. It doesn't have to be me.