My work building used to be a synagogue. There are still prayer tapestries on the high walls and once a year it fills for worship. Preparations are under way. The second floor is City Hall. It’s packed full of people holding gifts (ragdolls and plush toys, action figures and games), waiting for their favorite celebrity to arrive. On the third floor we stop so Mike can change his shoes. Our kid is there, sitting on a day bed. Mike sits and puts his head on her. He tells me that he knows it’s silly but when he lays his head on hers he just wants to go to sleep. The kid is a cabbage patch kid, complete with yarn hair. She sounds adorable and tells us soothing things in child-speak. I tell him to change his shoes quick. She’s convincing but not real. She’s a place-holder. A captivating distraction designed to keep us here. While everyone is gathering and waiting for life to cyclically happen to them we can go to the waterpark with no lines and actually LIVE. There’s a new water coaster I really want to try.