wheeling around the city

On a Tuesday. We took the train (in clear violation of good sense). He visited his father at work on the west side, got kicked out of the Museum of Art and Design, napped in Central Park, had a drink on the steps of St. Peter's, munched on tapas, wiggled around on Azadeh's lap, screamed on the peak train home, stared at a stranger as she sang him a Norwegian version of twinkle-twinkle, and finally passed out in his mother's arms as the sun set over the Hudson.