Central Park, the Bronx Zoo, and Other Things We Almost Saw - Day 3 in NYC

Day 5 - October 15, 2025

Breakfast and transportation were… forgettable. Let’s leave it at that. The good news is the day redeemed itself by simply existing. It’s beautiful out. On the bus, Daddy ran point wrangling kids while Mommy was banished to the back with the gear, seated beside a lovely local woman who kept her company and generously dispensed advice for the day ahead. According to her, the shuttle is a must-do, bucket-list experience. Box officially checked.

That said, I think the disconnect here is the kids. And the stroller. Mostly the stroller. Dragging that thing along dramatically lowers the “must-do” factor. If it were just the kids, I suspect this would barely register as an issue. But add wheels, bulk, and gravity, and suddenly this unforgettable experience becomes very, very memorable for all the wrong reasons.

After our mandatory caffeine and internet pit stop, we headed toward Central Park. The plan was simple: rent bikes and tour the park like capable, outdoorsy people who definitely do this sort of thing all the time. Following the bus lady’s directions, we walked up 7th Avenue to a bike rental shop and successfully secured two electric bikes with child seats.

While the first bike was being set up, I watched the guy attach the child seat very closely. This is now a core life skill of mine. I need to know how our seat compares. Easier? Harder? Am I bad at this or just unlucky? Unfortunately, I learned two things. One: this seat was way easier to install than ours. Two: something on the bike itself wasn’t working. So another bike and child seat had to be assembled for me.

Another gentleman stepped in to set it up. Having already studied the process like a man preparing for a licensing exam, I watched closely. That’s when I noticed the mistake. The child seat wasn’t properly secured. Not loose in a “might wobble” way. Loose in a “my kid would no longer be part of the bike” way. I flagged it immediately. The kind man fixed it right away, narrowly avoiding what would have been a very public, very fast-moving parenting failure.

With our electric powered vehicles in hand and children properly secured behind us we were now ready to conquer central park and all its marvels. Confidence is high. We are mobile, caffeinated, and temporarily convinced this was a very good idea. Off we went… oh wait nope every one has to pee first. After we will be good for real this time.

First stop in the park was the playground. The kids loved it. The parents? Let’s just say it didn’t exactly wow us, especially after being spoiled by Battery Park. It amazes me how easy kids are to impress , I think that's why they are much happier. Still, boxes were checked, energy was burned, so it was back on the bikes.

As we rode, the kids were completely mesmerized by the horses and carriages rolling past. Full-on tourist mode. Meanwhile, we were weaving and swerving to dodge horse droppings like it was a shit-infested Mario Kart race. Perhaps it was all the bobbing, weaving, and gentle panic that did it, but in what can only be described as a minor parenting miracle, they both fell asleep way earlier than expected. Like… is this real life? earlier.

For a brief New York City minute, it felt like we were on a date again. Just the two of us. No snacks being demanded. No negotiations. No debates over whether we should be using 15 or 50 SPF, kidding, everyone knows I’m an 80 SPF, every single time. It brought me right back to our early trips together, like biking around the island of Caye Caulker, when the biggest decisions were simple and mostly inconsequential.

There’s something tender about sharing an adventure with someone you love. Something almost sacred. The thrill of discovering a place together, but also discovering little pieces of yourselves along the way. Seeing the world side by side, letting it shape you, soften you, and remind you who you were before life got loud, and who you’re still becoming.

We soaked in the day, the city, the atmosphere, and each other, fully aware that everything we love most in life was right there beside us, strapped in and snoring. We even played stealth tourist: one parent stayed back with the sleeping beauties while the other casually wandered up to observation points for some surprisingly stunning views and a few sneaky snapshots.

All that effortless parenting worked up an appetite in Sophie. The serious kind. So we pulled over at a park hot dog stand, fully bracing ourselves to be absolutely robbed, because last time we were.

But this time, the robbery was gentler. Less artillery, more sausages. We handed over our money, they handed us lunch, and somehow we walked away feeling like we’d gotten the better end of the deal. In New York, that’s about as close to a bargain as it gets.

We kept biking and soaking in the park until the kids finally woke up. A quick side note on the electric bikes: when we first splurged on the upgrade, a small part of me felt lazy. But man oh man, let me tell you, that little addition made all the difference. At least for the ones pedaling.

Those bikes did all the heavy lifting… literally. Distance? Check. Hills? Check. Fun? Hell fuck yeah, check. They let us cover way more of the park, way faster, and with a fraction of the effort than our feeble, human-juice-fueled pedaling ever could. Less sweaty, less stinky parents. More importantly, it meant we could save our energy for later, when patience and good-parent vibes would actually be required.

Once the kids were awake, we made a quick stop to visit Alice in Wonderland and snap a few pictures, because you can’t not stop for Alice. From there, it was back to return the bike rentals and reclaim our stroller, a reunion that felt more emotional than it probably should have.

We walked back into the park for a public washroom break. While waiting for Dad, Lola somehow scored free cotton candy, proof once more that like her mother, what she wants the universe provides.

We thanked the universe by paying the kind man for the cotton candy, his trick worked but our little girl was over the moon so who cares. We bought Wesley some fruit, which he promptly turned into a strawberry-only experience… sadly there was only like 4 or 5 of them. Everything else was deeply offensive.

Then it was back on foot to catch a train to the Bronx Zoo, where Sophie had expertly secured a free entry between 3 and 4 p.m. A true victory. By the time we arrived in the Bronx, the kids were officially hangry. The dangerous kind. Thankfully, there was a local market right outside the station.

First, though, we had to conquer a long flight of stairs down. An unnecessary boss level designed to break spirits that absolutely did not need to exist. Once inside, the kids went straight for the classics: cheese and chips. The cheese was princess-branded, processed, string-adjacent cheese. 

The kind endorsed by imaginary royalty and toddler dietary influencers with zero credentials and a suspicious amount of glitter. We threw in some meat and buns for good measure, because at that point we weren’t grocery shopping. We were just trying to keep everyone alive, upright, and moving toward the next checkpoint.

We snacked on our spoils as we made our way toward the zoo, which already felt like a small victory. By the time we actually walked through the gates it was pushing 4pm, plenty of time, we told ourselves, confidently and incorrectly. We headed straight for the lions. Wesley was locked in, which made the whole thing feel worth it immediately. There were Halloween-themed photo ops scattered everywhere, all begging for attention, and somehow we managed to ignore almost all of them. Growth.

We caught a peacock, a few giraffes, and then some reptiles before a cheerful voice over the speakers announced the zoo would be closing in fifteen minutes. Just enough time to remind us how much we didn’t see. All that traveling, all that planning, for a greatest-hits speed run of the zoo. Honestly? Still kind of worth it.

On the way back we made one last attempt to see the bears, but they were clearly done with the day. Possibly already hibernating. Honestly, I respect it. So it was time to reverse the entire trip. The subway from the Bronx took us straight to Times Square, because of course it did. We grabbed Happy Meals immediately, purely as a strategic move to prevent a full-blown bus meltdown. Calories before chaos.

From there, we tried again, for the third time, to catch a Greyhound-type bus back to the hotel. Turns out the third time is not the charm. Not even close. But in a shocking plot twist, the information employee was actually helpful. Like… genuinely helpful. For the first time, we learned they have access to a computer, an actual computer, that can help tourists navigate the wildly confusing bus routes and schedules.

This information would have been life-changing about two attempts ago. The bus we tried to catch was already too full for our family and our supply wagon, so we were rewarded with a relaxing thirty-minute wait for the next one.

We let the kids run loose for almost the entire time and, somehow, heard zero complaints from the kids or the slew of other waiting travelers. Not one. A true parenting miracle, witnessed in real time. The ride home was, once again, uncomfortable and awkward. Which at this point felt less like bad luck and more like brand consistency.

Back at the hotel it was straight into bath time, then bedtime. No sightseeing. No easing into the night. Just straight to the essentials. While I stayed back with the kiddos, Sophie headed out to pick up our Thai food from a place called 5 Star Thai Food. Bold claim. 

Borderline confrontational. We were prepared to judge. Bedtime was a cinch. Some people might credit the kids being completely wiped out from the day. Those people don’t understand the craft. Real experts know the truth. The daddy factor came through with a rare double win.

Moments after my successful mission concluded, Sophie returned with hers. And I’ll admit it: the Thai food was authentic and delicious. No notes. We ate like people who had absolutely earned every single one of those five stars. I would’ve given it six, but I was too tired to lift my arm. Then we collapsed for the night with zero regrets and nothing left in the tank.