Thanks for all of the positive feedback on my recent list of “only in San Francisco” parenting moments. Read on for a few more.
Teens openly smoke blunts on the steps of Chase Bank in the family-friendly West Portal neighborhood. Not thugs, mind you. These kids look like they came over from the nearby Quaker high school.
Your kids have a screaming fight over which fancy, high-end gourmet ice cream is the best: Mitchell’s purple yam or Bi-Rite’s salted caramel.
One of your daughter’s best friends is a little boy hat model who was “discovered” while walking on (the obscenely mustachioed and Pabst Blue Ribbon-laden) Valencia Street.
The Girl Scout Cookie business plan involves selling cookies in front of the medical marijuana clinic.
The family spends a beautiful sunny day playing cricket with British ex-pat friends on Crissy Field in the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge.
A beautiful sunny day is generally around 62 degrees.
A preschooler buddy on a playdate marvels at “that funny seat” that she must ride in when in your car–because her family doesn’t own an actual automobile and only takes public transportation.
You have to duck out early from the free bluegrass festival because the pot-smoking 60-year-olds try to munch on your kids’ goldfish.
When you say the word “manny,” as in man-nanny, people instantly know what you mean, with no further explanation.
You play the following games with your children to pass the time while roaming around town: Is it art or graffiti? Is he hipster or homeless?
Your neighbor on one side is an ex-Irish marine who runs a Mexican food restaurant near the ballpark and chases down partying hooligans with a bb gun.
Participation in the Bay to Breakers race involves a quickie lesson in the City’s legal accepted amount of public nudity.
Only in San Francisco…Unless you can tell me otherwise.