the mall

Several months ago, soon after we moved to Salvador, a Brazilian colleague was telling me how lately she’d begun going to the mall on the weekends.

Ugh, I thought. Why would you want to go to the mall for fun? Especially when there’s the beach?

Well, I never thought I’d say this, but after eight months, the beach has kind of gotten old.

Partly because Ju has reached the age where all he wants to do is eat sand or rub it in his eyes, and holding a squirming, slippery, sand-coated baby is only sustainable for so long.

Partly because it’s so damn hot, and the thought of oiling three kids up with sunscreen, and schlepping towels, clothes, diapers, surfboards, etc. is exactly the opposite of relaxing.

But the mall is air conditioned. The mall requires minimal equipment.

(Although it does require clothing, which is a rarity for Ju, who has been dressed in more than a diaper only a handful of times since we’ve lived here. He’s outgrown most of his outfits never having worn them. Every time I put clothes on him he pulls at them, indignant, as though to say, what is this?)


And honestly, there’s really nowhere else that’s convenient to go with young kids. No library, no children’s museum, no bookstore or coffee shop or safe, convenient, kid-friendly public space.

So, much as it pains me to admit it, the occasional Saturday or Sunday will find us at the mall, shooing the boys off the escalator railings, following them into stores to look at soccer balls or sparkly necklaces.

At least it’s a change of scenery.