Big Man just turned 6. We had a great party at an underappreciated museum, a place full of obscure machines and items previously thought to be too quotidian to attract notice. I love that kind of thing - the reconstructed rooms used to be my favorite part of the National Museum of American History, one of the few museums I never had anything to do with professionally. Hence, I haven't been there since I was a kid, and now they're renovating the joint, so those rooms are probably history (ooo, meta!).
At our party we had cake, we encountered a wacky old docent who demonstrated the machines and let the kids hoist cargo, there was a fairly successful engineering activity involving masking tape and marbles.
But I think my favorite part was the ride home. We packed five boys, ages 4 to 7, into the minivan and listened to them tell each other lies and crack each other up all the way home.
Funny guys.
Lies, and cracking jokes. The earliest form of "talking trash" which Mr. Spice assures me they all do. Of course, so is eyeing up the bronx teenager wearing a black bra under her white wifebeater on the A train.
ReplyDeleteThis one time? I was in a submarine? And there was this sea monster, and it totally sank the submarine, but I got away 'cause I was in a lifeboat?
ReplyDeleteI love it, I really do.