Today I brought the kids to a children's museum, where there is a small firetruck they could climb in and out of, a "virtual" dogsled, and a basement room full of toys. We went there with my friend and her lunatic son who acts at the age of 7 like he's on methamphetamines.

The botanical gardens connected to the museum were gorgeous even in winter, mulch piled high around the trunks of saplings, ivy still evergreen along the brick walls of the greenhouses. We were able to see the glint of goldfish beneath the icy surface of the raised ponds. It was exciting! Whenever I go to those gardens, New York suddenly doesn't seem like such a horrible place to live.

I gave the kids some of the homemade rolls I'd brought for lunch to feed to the ducks and the birds went mad. They fought viciously and were attacking each other over crumbs. I joked that vermin and wild birds are crazy about my cooking.

The squirrels on our street gnawed only through our garbage cans, and every once in a while I'll recognize a piece of last night's scraps in the claws of a feasting squirrel, perched on our gate.