Summertime at Camp Ikea

What do cool Brooklyn parents do when it’s 100 degrees out and their under-air-conditioned 3rd floor apartments are doing their best sauna impressions? They go to the Children’s Museum I think, or a hip indoor playground, or the Met, or Coney Island, or something else culturally and intellectually stimulating to make their non-New Yorker friends jealous. I wouldn’t actually know. Instead, today my kids and I pretended we live in the suburbs. We got in the car, cranked up the air conditioning, and drove to Ikea.

You know how sometimes it’s too hot to eat? Well, not at Ikea. Bonus: views of lower Manhattan AND ALSO SOME GUYS WASHING SCHOOL BUSES! Harper found that pretty interesting.

Harper especially likes the bathroom at Ikea. They have a little potty in the big stall, and more importantly, a miniature sink for munchkin hand-washing. She really would have washed her hands at this sink all day if I had let her.

After slunch, OCD handwashing, and a diaper change marathon, we headed to the indoor playground. I mean, the kids’ section.

Even baby Alton got in on the action, enjoying a playmat soaked with shopper germs while Harper played in a wardrobe. “I’m just looking for big girl toys. Sorry, baby Ollie, there’s no toys.”

And finally, ice cream.

I mean, is that the best afternoon ever or what? Also, they have a parking lot and no one is there on a weekday. And just wait until Harper is big enough for the play area daycare thingy! The only problem with Ikea is that because I can’t do math, I get tricked every time. “Yeah,” I think, “I’ll pick up this cute wooden toy. It’s two dollars! Oh, and we certainly need some heart-shaped ice cube trays. Only two dollars!” Every time I go I’m convinced I’m not going to spend any money and then am shocked at my total. Those tricksters! Turns out those only-two-dollars-es add up! Oh well. If you can restrain yourself you can have a kids meal, a temperate place to play, and a new toy to bring home for $5 or so.

As we were strolling through the monstrous warehouse they make you trek through to leave (oh, and Harper loves sitting in the shopping cart, too) I said, “So much of our furniture is from Ikea. Our bookshelves–” “Mama,” said Harper, seeming a little dazed, “Let’s not talk about things.”

Indeed.

2 responses to “Summertime at Camp Ikea

  1. I say, God bless the Swedes. And capitalism. And air-conditioning.

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