I hate clowns so a clown was out, as was that person who dances around in the sort of bird costume. McDonald’s was out, the organic farm where the kids can play in the dirt and pet the animals was too far away plus it was closed on the weekend I think. The Museum of Natural History wanted, what, way over two hundred Euro for seven kids or something like that. We did a pirate party last year, I think. At any rate, we’d done one already, with treasure map, treasure hunt, all that stuff.
Which left the art museum.
This is how I found myself sitting in front of The Two Fridas with my wife, a friend of ours kind enough to come along and help out, the tour guide and twelve 8-year old children: nine girls, Bill Gates, Hannibal Lector and Don Rickles. The sort of smart kids who are fine as long as you keep them occupied, which turns out to be impossible.
The guide was really good. She had been planning to show the kids a different picture, but they all sat down in front of this one so she explained it instead, off the top of her head, talking about Frida and the painting at a level the kids and I could understand. She told us how expensive it was, how it had traveled here with a courier who never let it out of his sight, as the boys swang pillows over their heads, sword-fight style, etc.
Alpha is a genius. We took the train to the museum, which fascinated the kids, some of whom had never been on one before. I had expected the kids to be rowdier. I even wore my steel-toed boots just in case, just to put a little fear in them. This is how scared the boys were: on the way to the restroom with them after the tour, Don Rickles asked me what my name is. I told him. “That’s a girl’s name,” he said.
Anyhow. The guide told us afterwards she had been surprised the kids were as well-behaved and attentive as they were. A previous group hadn’t been interested at all.
After the tour, they got to paint and we fed them and went back to the train. On the way we let them play in the creek, so they could fall in and catch colds. Hannibal Lector found a broken schnaps bottle and threw it back into the high grass. I went in looking for it so no one would step on it with his or her bare feet, and stepped in dog shit with my boots. It reminded me of that scene in Jurassic Park where the big game hunter is taking aim at one dinosaur and the other one eats him. So I went wading in the creek for a while too until the sole of my boot was fairly clean again.
Amazingly, no one was injured the whole time. No paintings were damaged. No one cried. Bill Gates was thirsty, because we had none of the beverages he allowed himself to drink (i.e. tap water). Everyone else seemed to have a good time. We were still talking to each other after we arrived back at our train station and handed the kids back to their parents, who seemed equally surprised they all still had ten fingers and toes each.
We went into town, where I got Gamma an ice-cream cone. She climbed halfway up a tree and ate it while listening to a big band that was playing outside.
That was Saturday. Sunday some relatives came over. We fed them until they went home again. Gamma had a great time both days. She said it was her best birthday ever.
Medals for bravery. You. Alpha.
(When I was a kid, my parents routinely took us to the Museum of Science and Industry or the Field Museum in Chicago for our birthdays… bunches of little boys. But those museums had cool things like stuffed elephants, mummies, dinosaur bones, a submarine you could in, a fake mineshaft that you could go in, and lots of exhibits that were 1920s versions of hands-on – stuff where you pulled levers and turned wheels and inserted coins and watched a machine make a plastic Abraham Lincoln bust.)
once it’s not me organising everything… and it’s her best birthday ever!!
Eight? Eight?
I have known you long enough that my child, who was an infant when we were doing “Raising Hell”, is now as old as Gamma was then.
You don’t look a day older, btw.
How is Gamma with shoes?
My 8-yo niece is obsessed with shoes. She doesn’t care if they fit or anything.
Clowns are creepy. Good move with the art museum.
we missed you, beta.
yes, we’ve all been talking about how time flies. beta was one of the smallest in her class when she started school, but has grown the most. she now not only is learning the piano, she improvises and composes. i want to get her the new keith jarret album. not that i pressure my kids or anything.
as far as shoes go, she likes shoes but it doesn’t appear to be an obsession, or even a great interest, so that’s one thing she didn’t inherit from her dad. she is more into hair accessories, clothes, art supplies and female pop singers.
ooohhh we (I) didn’t know you had a shoe fetish. *locking into memory*
Happy Birthday Gamma! You’re one year older than mine, who happily still couldn’t pick Xina Aguilera outta a police lineup.
IT would seem that Gamma and I have the same birthday…or very close. Cool.
Cool. You express yourself very well for an 8-year-old.
eh, i wouldn’t call it a fetish, exactly, jilbur. although i did invent this: http://www.shoeproject.org/
this is a wonderful birthday! and one i wish someone would organize for my own day. me, me, mine!
(:
(how i want to live somewhere i can show my son things like the two fridas. in person. alive and in front of our face. really, how wonderful)
” Don Rickles asked me what my name is. I told him. “That’s a girl’s name,” he said.”
You should be careful about revealing personal information in your blog. I think you revealed her information about how your Dad named you “Sue”..
And for your heavy trivia needs, I heard recently that “A Boy Named Sue” was written by Shel Silverstein… http://www.toptown.com/hp/66/sue.htm
Happy belated birthday to your daughter. My son will be eight in Nov. The prospect of taking 11 of his peers to a museum is rather frightening. You are very brave indeed.
Now about feet– can anyone explain the difference between a chiropodist and a podiatrist? I’ve always wondered and you seem like the type of folks who might know.