The bright screen on my laptop is a little too friendly right now.  My day has been made of muted colors—lazy summer heat sort of colors.  Sweaty, golden colors. 

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I squeezed a little hand in one of each of mine.  I’ve only got two hands and two children, thank goodness.  My two hands are constantly put to good use.  We were dressed in our Sublime Sunday version of finery: the tot in a flowery dress, the boy in a Donald Duck t-shirt, and me in shoes other than my trusty, well-loved sandals.  

We needed to walk about twelve blocks fairly quickly, to make it in time. The brick lined crosswalks were busy.  Sublime Sunday seems popular in my town.  We had to do our best to walk in a lazy way that was also expedient around all the people.  Accents were drifting around us, thick and pretty.  The little legs of the tot don’t move very quickly, and the legs of the boy frequently turn in the wrong direction in order to examine something.  There was plenty of time to take in the scene.  

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<center>![image-2018-07-29 (1).jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmWFBBFaKSvtiuKAax6bvZkSP8kXGx2TbrBZwLYeT6fYRm/image-2018-07-29%20(1).jpg)<p>*The Old Ball and Chain*</p></center>

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Church bells were ringing.  The clip-clop of horse-drawn carriages was slowly rolling past.  And then, the strange clip-clop of my shoe.  This is what I get for only wearing sandals since quitting work in an office five years ago.  Those mature adult shoes had been dry rotting in my closet for five years, looking normal, waiting for this moment to seek revenge for their neglect.  Any good Floridian has a pair of trusty, well-loved sandals stored in her purse.  We found a curb for me to make the switch, and the tot took off her shoes and put them back on just for good measure.

We carried on.  No neglected office shoes were going to stop us.  Sweat was starting to trickle down my chest.  Oh, the distractions.  I stopped to look at the time while the boy rubbernecked every approaching trolley.  Those things just never get old with little boys.  And the tot needed to examine the old ball and chain – even balls of spikes attract children.

No tourist attractions were going to thwart me.  We kept on.  Then the water breaks.  The tot must stop walking to drink water.  She also has to tell me every time she takes a sip, which requires her to disorder the carefully synchronized movements that result in her actually getting water in her mouth and not everywhere else.  *Just drink the water, child.*

We made it.  The rush of air conditioning cooled all that sweat to a clammy feeling.  I purchased the tickets.  A high school musical—the kids’ first play.  I disposed of my office shoes in a can full of pretty little hors d’oeuvre cups and gold napkins—pretty valueless things.  They must have felt right at home.

One step up for me took three steps for the little one, up the plush carpet.  We found some seats far away from everyone else, where a tot could be a tot without reproving looks.  I eyed people as they came in, *You sit next to us, you get what you deserve.*  

<center>![image-2018-07-29 (2).jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQme7u8B97f1LqGunHFwWMd8udthz8CSzjM4cexf5UdakXt/image-2018-07-29%20(2).jpg)<p>*My view with a tot on my lap.*</p></center>

“We are at the movies,” the tot said.  She kept talking about the “movie” throughout the evening.  I don’t think she ever grasped the difference.  I rustled the pile of snacks in my purse that I’d brought to help the tot appreciate the theater a little better.  The lights dimmed.  The curtain opened.  The boy’s eyes were glued to the stage.  The tot climbed onto my lap.

“What’s that noise?” She whispered. 

“It’s music,” I whispered back.  She stared on at the stage.  I watched their profiles as the different colored lights brought their expressions to view.  Bright eyes and chubby cheeks made over with expressions of intrigue.  I felt a smile filling up my face and the rest of me.  

We made it halfway through the first act before the tot had a case of diarrhea, but being the Super-Tot that she is, nothing dastardly happened.  We missed one song.  Act Two was a little less smooth, but the tot still watched while she paced up and down our empty row.  Once the lights came on again and the actors were taking their bows, the tot came scurrying over.  She didn’t understand what the applause was about, but she knew she wanted a part of all that joy.  She clapped and mimicked some of the audience nearby by pointing at random actors that were her supposed friends.  

<center>![image-2018-07-29 (3).jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmf3ruH3VpWB4K4hNnQg1CCLhStFTAWFKXtW56p7pNQ7uy/image-2018-07-29%20(3).jpg)<p>*5 o'clock Shadow*</p></center>

Then back to the bright outdoors, this time not rushed at all.  I held little soft hands again.  The blue sky was brilliant against the terra cotta architecture.  We walked through the streets again, past heavenly smells.  We stopped at the Spanish bakery and I rewarded myself with empanadas and sweet potato pastries, for having taken us all out for a Sublime Sunday, and it actually was, almost entirely, sublime.