Chicago: It's Child's Play

'Where's the playground?" my daughter kept asking.

All day, I had been assuring her that we would visit a park in the late afternoon. I hadn't mentioned it was Millennium Park, Chicago's great new public space, or that the park contained enough dazzling art and architecture to make grown-ups as giddy as girls on swings. So when we stepped off bustling Michigan Avenue onto a plaza lined with manicured shrubs and sprawling lawns, but no jungle gym in sight, she fretted.

Then she spotted the giant shiny jellybean.

She sprinted toward the sculpture, joining a horde of other squealing children making funny faces at its mirrored facade. The elliptical piece, so large that people can stroll under its concave belly, reflected Michigan Avenue's grand buildings, a vast blue sky and everyone that came near. My 4-year-old was mesmerized.

And suddenly, so was I. Chicago had just pulled off a rare feat. More than most big cities -- or even Disney World or Wisconsin Dells -- this one has the power to indulge kids and adults at the same time.

Proof was all around. Families streamed past the bean on their way to the outdoor music pavilion, designed by acclaimed architect Frank Gehry. Cellist Yo-Yo Ma would soon perform a free open-air concert under its fanciful stage roof of metal curlicues. Nearby, children splashed through the shallow pool of another unusual art piece, the Crown Fountain. Two 50-foot glass blocks flank the pool and project faces of Chicagoans, whose lips spout water from time to time, sending kids into peals of laughter.

My husband, daughter and I had spent our morning a short walk away at Navy Pier, beside Lake Michigan. There, at Chicago's requisite family attraction, we'd eaten ice cream, ridden the carousel, craned our necks at the 15-story Ferris wheel, and made pretend pizza (deep-dish, of course) at the Children's Museum. The excursion delighted our daughter, but hardly thrilled her parents. Our own turn came when we stumbled upon Fox and Obel, a gourmet food store and cafe, on the way back to our hotel.

Food, art and rest

The best kind of family vacation was taking shape: My little one could believe our every move was for her singular enjoyment. We would know better.

At the Art Institute of Chicago, the next day, Degas' paintings of dancers occupied my budding ballerina while I glimpsed works by Picasso, Van Gogh and Seurat. We also checked out the Thorne Miniature Rooms, with diminutive detailed dioramas of period rooms -- the best dollhouses I've ever seen.

For dinner that night, we went to one of the country's best Mexican restaurants, Rick Bayless' Frontera Grill. What kid doesn't like Mexican food, I figured? The pork mole was delicious. The fact that my girl had fallen asleep on the way and stayed asleep beside me on the banquette while my husband and I drank margaritas was even more delicious. (The restaurant has a children's menu and made a to-go package for us.)

Never mind that our visit to the Art Institute had lasted just over an hour, or that one of us slept through dinner. The vacation was working.

That success found me the next day lounging under a hazy sun on the sandy shore of Lake Michigan, alternating my gaze between green-blue waters and the Chicago skyline. The North Avenue Beach sits just across a Lake Shore Drive overpass from the Lincoln Zoo, which is free, pretty and not too large. We'd spent the morning there, our swimsuits packed and ready.

Balanced fulfillment

I had found the keys to attaining vacation bliss in Chicago for everyone -- child and parents, lion lover and beach bum: Keep a modest schedule (one or two major activities a day). Stay at a hotel near Navy Pier or Millennium Park so that you can walk nearly everywhere (and take the free trolley everywhere else). And embrace the stroller.

I'd enjoyed the trip so much that I turned the entire last day over to my child. We indulged in classic childish pursuits: viewing dinosaur bones at the Field Museum, watching a dolphin show at the Shedd Aquarium and treating a favorite doll to dinner at the American Girl Place, a store, cafe and theater devoted to the oversized brand of dolls.

Of course, the American Girl Place is just off Michigan Avenue, in the heart of the consumer extravaganza known as the Magnificent Mile. As we walked to dinner, we passed a Ferragamo shoe sale, a three-story Crate and Barrel, a Ralph Lauren. I hadn't done a lick of shopping all week. And my own little shopper, well, she was in a stroller, after all. She didn't mind.

Kerri Westenberg • 612-673-4282 • kwestenberg@startribune.com