On Friday, Donna and I took Jacob to Disney on Ice. Jacob was really good the entire time – after purchasing a drink, an insanely overpriced light-up sword and an insanely overpriced pair of super cheap “binoculars” that didn’t actually work, we found our seats really quickly and Jacob was content to watch the people until the show started.

I won’t bore you with the details (although if you want to, you can look at a few pictures here). Mostly the show involved lots of people in costumes skating better than I can (which would be not at all), with the occasional disco song thrown in, but Disney-style. Jacob was entranced.

And, of course, it wouldn’t be a “family” event if there weren’t about 8 billion meltdowns occurring all around me. As I mentioned, Jacob was an angel – he sat fairly quietly in his seat, excited for the show. But everywhere I looked were kids crying, freaking out, throwing temper tantrums and just generally being spazzy. And where there were spazzy kids, there were exasperated, frustrated, tired and frazzled parents. It was a nightmare. I thanked every divine being every honored in history for my well-behaved son.

On the way out, I missed the exit I should have taken for the Walt Whitman Bridge, and ended up in Center City Philadelphia. Not a problem, as I’ve spent enough time there to be able to find my way out – which I did, via South Street. The only issue with that is that we left the show at 9 p.m. on a Friday night – which is prime time on South Street. We got on South at Broad, and traveled down to Front – that’s about 15 blocks. Somewhere around 9th Street, Jacob told me he had to use the bathroom. No surprise: we’d shared a Coke and a Gatorade, so that was probably about 40 ounces of liquid.

Lucky for me, my friend Carissa lives on South Street, so I dialed her up. “Sure,” she said, “I’m just around the corner from home. It should be fine.” We only had another 6 blocks to go.

By the time we got to 4th Street, though, Jacob was nearly in tears. He had to go, and he had to go RIGHT. THIS. MINUTE. Donna jumped out of the car and ran with him into a Starbucks while I pseudo-parallel parked the car in what was quite possibly a no parking zone. Apparently, inside the Starbucks, there was a line for the bathroom, headed by two of the most hipster dudes I’ve ever seen (I saw them walking on the street as we were driving: Rivers Cuomo glasses, plaid button-downs, skinny jeans and Rocket Dogs. Yeah.) who were dancing the “I’ve Got To Pee Right Now To Get Rid of All This Beer” dance. Donna headed to the front of the line with Jacob, and explained that Jacob really had to go. The dudes expressed their need to go as the door was opening. Donna gave Jacob a push inside, and said to the hipster dudes, “Your bladders are bigger. You can hold it.”

Hah. Take that, hipsters.

Coming out of the Starbucks and back to the car, I could see Jacob’s eyes were as big as saucers. He had a few moments to take in the sights he’d bypassed on the way to the bathroom, and he was intrigued. I imagine a trip to South Street (preferably during the day) is in order soon.

We made it back to the house without further incident, although Jacob did insist on listening to “Bet On It” from the High School Musical soundtrack three times in a row. Ugh.

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