I’m looking for something that’s open early on the weekends (9 a.m.?) where we can take our 2-year-old daughter. We don’t want it to be an indoor play place or something that is solely designed for kids. Ideally, it would be something that adults enjoy too. Maybe something outdoors or with a restaurant/cafe where we can give ourselves a little treat. We are in Manhattan Beach and have to be back home by 12:30 p.m. for nap time. We’ve been able to make drives to Pasadena and Orange County and make it back in time (bonus of leaving on a Saturday or Sunday because there’s no traffic!) — Brittany Newell

Here’s what we suggest:

Finding places that will keep both you and your toddler entertained can be tricky. But don’t fret, Brittany! I’ve enlisted the help of some of my colleagues who are also parents that understand the need to flee the house before nap time. I’ve compiled a list of fun mini adventures that you can start early-ish.

For an activity close to home, Michelle Woo, The Times’ West Coast experiences editor, suggests renting a toddler bike trailer or bike seat from one of the local shops and taking a ride along the Strand from Manhattan to Redondo and back to Hermosa for a stop at Good Stuff, a beachside restaurant where you can enjoy a refreshing smoothie, mimosa or Woo’s go-to order, “the Good Stuff Breakfast with a pork sausage patty — simple yet comforting.” Then let your daughter play in the sand for a while. And if you haven’t been to the Roundhouse Aquarium before, it’s definitely worth a visit. The free, donation-based marine educational center is home to swell sharks, sea urchins, jellyfish and more that will leave visitors of any age in awe.

About 12 miles up the coast in Venice Beach is the newly renovated Windward Plaza Playground, a nautical-themed fun zone equipped with slides, swings, climbers and more. The best part is that it’s located on the sand at the beach just steps away from the famous boardwalk. Before you get to the park, my colleague Amy King suggests stopping by Breakaway Cafe for yummy breakfast burritos or Menotti’s for coffee.

For an early morning adventure, Times entertainment and features editor Brittany Levine Beckman recommends visiting the Riverside bike path in Frogtown, which opens at 6 a.m., so you can start as early as you’d like. She and her husband usually take turns pushing their 18-month-old daughter in a tricycle along the pathway and get their steps in. Afterward, she suggests going to Lingua Franca, a restaurant situated along the river. “We’ve arrived a few times as soon as the restaurant opens at 10 a.m. on the weekend and been the only early-bird brunchers,” she tells me. “We grab a table outside in the back and our daughter meanders without us feeling annoying.” The restaurant also serves a toddler-approved Dutch baby and a parent-approved bloody Mary, she adds. If you prefer to just grab a coffee, go to Tadaa.Coffee, which has a sand pit that your daughter can play in.

Another fun option is the Natural History Museum in Exposition Park, where you can wander through the awe-inspiring Dinosaur Hall, learn about the evolution of mammals, roam through the enchanting nature gardens and admire more than 2,000 gems and minerals from across the globe. The museum opens at 9:30 a.m., but there’s still plenty of time to explore before nap time. Levine Beckman also enjoys taking her daughter to the museum. “Our toddler loves the animal dioramas,” she tells me. “She likes staring up at the dinosaur bones too (and can say “roar” now), but the big stuffed animals are her favorite.” For food, my colleague Sophia Kercher recommends South LA Cafe, which is located at the museum.

Now for some rapid-fire ideas: Kercher suggests the Stoneview Nature Center, which is a plant-filled city sanctuary nestled in Culver City’s Blair Hills. Here you can chase hummingbirds, roam through the never-crowded garden and “visit Stoneview’s resident quails, which have their own fenced-in compound called, ‘Quallywood,’” she says. Times contributor Rachel Kraus, who recently wrote about the rise of mall parks in Southern California (and why parents are loving them), suggests the Proud Bird near LAX, which she calls “a one stop shop parent and kid utopia.” She adds, “You can order food and drinks (including from a full bar) and let your kids run around on the outdoor play structure, kick a ball on the turf or explore the vintage airplanes.” Also, be sure to check out our list of L.A. playgrounds that are close to coffee shops where you can get a jolt of energy if needed.

I hope these suggestions are helpful with planning your next morning adventure with your toddler and that you are able to create some fun new memories together. Happy exploring!

The man I’m talking to tells me he has no name.

“Hey” is what he responds to, and he says he can be best described as a “travel agent,” a designation said with a sly smile to clearly indicate it’s code for something more illicit.

About eight of us are crammed with him into a tiny area tucked in the corner of a nightclub. Normally, perhaps, this is a make-up room, but tonight it’s a hideaway where he’ll feed us psychedelics (they’re just mints) to escape the brutalities of the world. It’s also loud, as the sounds of a rambunctious funk band next door work to penetrate the space.

”Close your eyes,” I’m told. I let the mint begin to melt while trying to pretend it’s a gateway to a dream state. The more that mint peddler talks, the more it becomes clear he’s suffering from PTSD from his days in Vietnam. But the mood isn’t somber. We don’t need any make-believe substances to catch his drift, particularly his belief that, even if music may not change the world, at least it can provide some much-needed comfort from it.

“Brassroots District: LA ’74” is part concert, part participatory theater and part experiment, attempting to intermix an evening of dancing and jubilation with high-stakes drama. How it plays out is up to each audience member. Follow the cast, and uncover war tales and visions of how the underground music scene became a refuge for the LGBTQ+ community. Watch the band, and witness a concert almost torn apart as a group on the verge of releasing its debut album weighs community versus cold commerce. Or ignore it all to play dress-up and get a groove on to the music that never stops.

Audience members are encouraged to partake in a “Soul Train”-style dance exhibition.

(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)

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Now running at Catch One, “Brassroots District” aims to concoct a fantasy vision of 1974, but creators Ari Herstand and Andrew Leib aren’t after pure nostalgia. The fictional band at the heart of the show, for instance, is clearly a nod to Sly and the Family Stone, a group whose musical vision of unity and perseverance through social upheaval still feels ahead of its time. “Brassroots District” also directly taps into the history of Catch One, with a character modeled after the club’s pioneering founder Jewel Thais-Williams, a vital figure on the L.A. music scene who envisioned a sanctuary for Black queer women and men as well as trans, gay and musically adventurous revelers.

“This is the era of Watergate and Nixon and a corrupt president,” Herstand says, noting that the year of 1974 was chosen intentionally. “There’s very clear political parallels from the early ‘70s to 2026. We don’t want to smack anyone in the face over it, but we want to ask the questions about where we’ve come from.”

This isn’t the first time a version of “Brassroots District” has been staged. Herstand, a musician and author, and Leib, an artist manager, have been honing the concept for a decade. It began as an idea that came to Herstand while he spent time staying with extended family in New Orleans to work on his book, “How to Make it in the New Music Business.” And it initially started as just a band, and perhaps a way to create an excitement around a new group.

Ari Herstand as musician Copper Jones in an intimate moment with the audience.

(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)

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Celeste Butler Clayton (Ursa Major), from left, Ari Herstand (Copper Jones), Bryan Daniel Porter (Donny) and Marqell Edward Clayton (Gil) in a tense moment.

(Gabriella Angotti-Jones/For The Times)

Yet as the pair became smitten with immersive theater — a term that typically implies some form of active involvement on the part of the audience, most often via interacting and improvising with actors — Brassroots District the band gradually became “Brassroots District” the show. Like many in the space, Herstand credits the long-running New York production “Sleep No More” with hipping him to the scene.

“It’s really about an alternative experience to a traditional proscenium show, giving the audience autonomy to explore,” Herstand says.

Eleven actors perform in the show, directed by DeMone Seraphin and written with input from L.A. immersive veterans Chris Porter (the Speakeasy Society) and Lauren Ludwig (Capital W). I interacted with only a handful of them, but “Brassroots District” builds to a participatory finale that aims to get the whole audience moving when the band jumps into the crowd for a group dance. The night is one of wish fulfillment for music fans, offering the promise of behind-the-stage action as well as an idealized vision of funk’s communal power.

Working in the favor of “Brassroots District” is that, ultimately, it is a concert. Brassroots District, the group, released its debut “Welcome to the Brassroots District” at the top of this year, and audience members who may not want to hunt down or chase actors can lean back and watch the show, likely still picking up on its broad storyline of a band weighing a new recording contract with a potentially sleazy record executive. Yet Herstand and Leib estimate that about half of those in attendance want to dig a little deeper.

At the show’s opening weekend this past Saturday, I may even wager it was higher than that. When a mid-concert split happens that forces the band’s two co-leaders — Herstand as Copper Jones and Celeste Butler Clayton as Ursa Major — to bolt from the stage, the audience immediately knew to follow them into the other room, even as the backing band played on. Leib, borrowing a term from the video game world, describes these as “side quests,” moments in which the audience can better get to know the performers, the club owner and the act’s manager.

“Brassroots District: LA ‘74” is wish fulfillment for music fans, providing, for instance, backstage-like access to artists. Here, Celeste Butler Clayton performs as musician Ursa Major and is surrounded by ticket-goers.

(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)

An audience member’s costume.

(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)

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Yet those who stay in the main stage will still get some show moments, as here is where a journalist will confront a record executive. Both will linger around the floor and chat with willing guests, perhaps even offering them a business card with a number to call after the show to further the storyline beyond the confines of the club. If all goes according to plan, the audience will start to feel like performers. In fact, the central drama of “Brassroots District” is often kicked off by an attendee finding some purposely left-behind props that allude to the group’s record label drama. Actors, say Herstand, will “loosely guide” players to the right spot, if need be.

“The point is,” says Leib, “that you as an audience member are also kind of putting on a character. You can stir the spot.” And with much of the crowd in their ‘70s best and smartphones strictly forbidden — they are placed in bags prior to the show beginning — you may need a moment to figure out who the actors are, but a microphone usually gives it away.

“They’re a heightened version of themselves,” Herstand says of the audience’s penchant to come in costumes to “Brassroots District,” although it is not necessary.

“Brassroots District,” which is about two hours in length, is currently slated to run through the end of March, but Herstand and Leib hope it becomes a long-running performance. Previous iterations with different storylines ran outdoors, as it was first staged in the months following the worst days of the pandemic. Inside, at places such as Catch One, was always the goal, the pair say, and the two leaned into the venue’s history.

“It’s in the bones of the building that this was a respite for queer men and the Black community,” Leib says. “There’s a bit of like, this is a safe space to be yourself. We’re baking in some of these themes in the show. It’s resistance through art and music.”

Such a message comes through in song. One of the band’s central tunes is “Together,” an allusion to Sly and the Family Stone’s “Everyday People.” It’s a light-stepping number built around finger snaps and the vision of a better world.

“We are stronger when we unite,” Herstand says. “That is the hook of the song, and what we’re really trying to do is bring people together. That is how we feel we actually can change society.”

And on this night, that’s exactly what progress looks like — an exuberant party that extends a hand for everyone to dance with a neighbor.

After less than a month of negotiations, the Writers Guild of America and the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers announced their first steps toward a deal on Saturday.

“Today the WGA Negotiating Committee unanimously approved a four-year tentative agreement with the AMPTP for the 2026 Minimum Basic Agreement (MBA),” the union posted on its website. “Crucially, it protects our health plan and puts it on a sustainable path, with increased company contributions across many areas and long-needed increases to health contribution caps. The new contract also builds on gains from 2023 and helps address free work challenges.”

In 2023, the WGA went on a strike that lasted an entire summer and cramped production schedules for months.

The AMPTP said in its announcement that it looks forward to “building on this progress as we continue working toward agreements that support long-term industry stability.”

Word of the agreement arrived a few weeks before the expiration of the union’s current contract on May 1.

It also comes amid an ongoing dispute between the Writers Guild of America West and its own staff union. The staff union includes workers in fields such as legal and communications. Dozens of them in Los Angeles went on an independent strike in mid-February. The employees allege WGA West management was engaging in unfair labor practices, union-busting activities and bad faith bargaining. In a social media post last week, the staff union said striking members had lost health insurance coverage. NPR has reached out to the WGA for comment on the internal strike. The WGA canceled its annual West Coast award show in March as a result of the staff union strike.

The new four year contract between the WGA and Hollywood studios is expected to contain new rules around the use of artificial intelligence, such as licensing for AI training. According to a social media post from entertainment industry journalist Matthew Belloni, it will also include pension increases and extra compensation for streaming video on demand. The proposed deal, which is a year longer than the usual agreements between the union and studios, was greeted with relief online by a number of writers, performers and producers.

The AMPTP is currently hashing out a new set of agreements with unions that represent screen actors and directors.

The new writers’ contract still requires ratification by union members, which could come later this month, the WGA said.