Who embarrasses themselves at the Botanical Gardens in the Bronx. Three guesses: Eins...zwei...drei

My niece Brianna is currently learning German so that made the seven-hour journey from Western New York to Connecticut THAT much more fun. "Eins," Google instructed us. "Eins," we repeated. "Zwei," computer voice pronounced. "Zwei," we chanted back. We delighted in the sound of five (funf) and were alarmed that someone would hack up a lung for eight (acht) but we were quickly becoming fluent. "Der kleine hund geht zur post," I said to the cashier at a Dunkin Donuts. "Pardon?" she said so I translated helpfully, "The little dog is going to the post office." "Would you like whipped cream on that," she replied. Of course.

As Brianna has an interest in plants, we scheduled a visit to the famed Botanical Gardens in the Bronx. To pass the time during a traffic lull, we played the delightful game, "Name All the Flowers You Can." Turns out that, between us, Sydney and I can think of fourteen. Word-to-the-wise:  There are (slightly) MORE than fourteen types of flowers out there.

Our first stop at the famed Botanical Gardens was the restroom where my new friend, two-year-old Isabelle, was patiently counting to twenty while her mother was otherwise occupied. "You know, Isabelle," I told her as she emerged from the stall with her mother, "One in German is eins." Apparently Isabelle already knew that. Then Isabelle told me about the miniature train show that was going on but, alas, we couldn't go.

"Why can't you go?" the security guard at the library asked us. "Two-year-old Isabelle said we couldn't," I informed him, "What's there to see here?" He shrugged. "It's a small exhibit of just a few Picassos and a Warhol," he said. "Just?!?!" I scolded him, "Why...it sounds like a delightful exhibit." Word-to-the-wise: When the security guard of the exhibit warns you about the exhibit, listen to him. So, even though two-year-old Isabelle intentionally tried to sabotage our good time, thanks to our new security guard friend, we made it to the miniature train exhibit. We promised him that we would return to see the library exhibit afterwards. "Don't feel like you have to," he said, escorting us out the door.

For a girl who is neither a big fan of trains or plants, I have to admit...it was utterly delightful. "So far, I'm having at least $17 worth of fun for my $30 admission," I told Savannah. A half mile of track was laid out, running alongside and over visitors. Not "over" over...over the heads of visitors across bridges. Celebrating the architectural wonders that make up New York City, the designers replicated famed homes and buildings, meticulously made with natural resources found right at the Botanical Gardens. It's astonishing what one can make out of a pine cone and a few acorn caps. I'm a little ashamed that I've limited myself for all these years with simply spreading peanut butter and bird seed on a pine cone and calling myself "crafty."

We inadvertently approached the exit but I wasn't ready to leave yet. "But I haven't seen Yankee Stadium," I wailed to no avail as we were unceremoniously ushered out and instructed to re-enter through the main gate. "I'm deducting $3 from my enjoyment," I whispered to Savannah as we stomped around so I could see the stadium. Stadium seen, I turned to the nearest exit to go and was told I had to traipse through Coney Island and the cactus section to leave. "Seriously," I huffed, hiking past the hibiscus (which was not one of my original fourteen in the fun game "Name All the Flowers You Can.").

We stopped to purchase our souvenir picture and I can only blame my shock over the admission price, my aggravation that Isabelle had lied to me, my exasperation regarding the Garden's exit procedures and my own complete and utter idiocy for my laying the groundwork for a race war. As I waited for my picture to be printed, I gazed in delight upon the display picture of a lovely family. "Is this you," I asked the nice man waiting on us. He froze. Savannah froze. Sydney locked eyes with the ceiling. I plunged ahead. "Is this your son? He's adorable." The man didn't answer. I raised the picture so that I could see the side-by-side resemblance and realized that the pictured man was, in fact, NOT the man waiting on me. And yes, I kept babbling. Like the man AND my humiliated family, the register also decided to freeze up so we all stood there, awkward and uncomfortable, until he wrestled my change from its depths so we could flee the scene. "I think you have low blood sugar," Savannah said, taking my arm and guiding me to the Gingerbread Cafe where I punished myself with a manufactured Rice Krispie treat. "Mom," Sydney said, trying to guide my direction as I deliberated sloshed through a deep puddle, "Stop. You have a hole in your boot." "I know," I told her, "I deserve this."

 We were devastated that the Rock Garden was closed but we channeled our disappointment by heading back to the library. The security guard WASN'T kidding. Half of the Mosimans were classy and cultured. I offered to provide a soundtrack to the 15' by 30' room. "They can be flower-themed," I told our guard. "I know the beginning of Daisy-Daisy, Give me your answer, do." I looked at thousands of sketches of tulips in confusion and waved Sydney over to the more famous section. "Behold," I announced, "the Picasso!" "You CANNOT be serious," she hissed at the Crayola scribbles mounted on the wall. Brianna, meanwhile, was busy getting in trouble for trying to take a picture. "I think she should actually get a reward for showing interest," I told the guard before reassuring my niece that Savannah would color her a picture later that night.

Sydney and Brianna opted to take the elevator down from the 6th floor but I insisted that Savannah and I would take the stairs, inevitably getting lost on the 4th floor: Fungus. This obviously was...a nightmare. We feigned interest in the fungus before fleeing.

"Thank you for coming," the admissions lady said, waving to us as we exited (voluntarily). "Der kleine hund aus dem Botanischen Garten," I smiled back.