Saturday, Saturday

A got a haircut today. His hair was incredibly long before, wavy and scraggly, and seemed to grow into that never-ending space to where beanstalks reach. Now he looks like a young Andy Warhol.

We stocked up on some books after the haircut. Then Chickpea for falafel on a pita after book-shopping.

I had snuck A's sketchbook with me before we left home. At around 7:00 p.m., I diverted our time downtown to head to the Metropolitan Museum of Art uptown, for some drawing studies. A resisted initially, then said, Sure, why not? Carpe Noctum.

We arrived at the Greek antiquities gallery first, since it was closest to the entrance. Tonight's sketch was a negative space study of a crouching Greek lion in marble, 400-390 B.C. Sure beats the IKEA chair in our living room that he's been sketching since last week.

In other news, I am a little hyper-aware of late whenever we board a subway train. Clever me, I will talk to A without moving my lips, because, you see, we are in New York: Is that her ? Those are her ears, aren't they? Cate Blanchett is in town, performing at BAM. "No, mom," A will shoot back, careful not to look in the direction of our subject, "Not her." His lips don't move, either. Is that her? That's her jawline, no? Julia Roberts is in town, performing on Broadway. "Ugh. No, mom. I think we had a better chance of seeing her when we LIVED ON HER BLOCK." Both actresses I suspect would take up the subway challenge, à la Hilary Swank (who rides regularly with us common folk). One of these days.

We have a few more applications to fill out for summer studies. Then A should be set until September. We do need to school at home a little more, though. All this à la carte education, while tailor-made, is exhausting.

I am listening to the Stones' Street Fighting Man.