On Saturday afternoon I took my brood of three to the Denver Art Museum. They were surprisingly well behaved, which I credit to the pizza being offered as a bribe (or threat of losing, depending upon one’s viewpoint). Generally, they were glad to be there. They have, after all, practically grown up on the premises, given that the poor things had the misfortune to be born to a mother who believes art begins saturating one’s bones before one can speak or lift one’s head independently. Occasionally, however, they looked rather fatigued, and perhaps as though they’d rather be at a playground.
We did see some things that caught their interest, like this Star Wars creation made from cardboard.
And the baby became obsessed with a rather frightening looking dinosaur. Or maybe it was godzilla…. At any rate, the guard near the sculpture’s station was looking fairly irritated at her insistence to keep to the thing’s closest boundary. I did my best to follow the rules. “No touching!” will probably be her first sentence.
Personally I liked this new painting in the museum’s Western section, a section I sadly know by heart as it is the primary path to the play area (and not Renaissance art, where I’d so much rather be).
At the play area I noticed this sign, a beautiful reminder to follow the Dharma, no matter where one is or what one’s current circumstance might be (soothing a screaming child in the middle of a happy group of children, for instance).
There is a wonderful dress up area at the museum’s play center. My first born decided to be a knight. Little does he know he has been my knight for almost seven years.
Once outside we received the gift of an almost vulgar sunset. It was too beautiful, and certainly could not be captured by my amateur eye, though I of course tried.
On our way to the car, as the baby babbled happily in her stroller and Somber Child ran ahead bellowing to anyone who would listen about his knighthood, my thoughtful middle child noticed some apples in a window. We couldn’t decide if they were real, or perhaps set out for a hungry well-tempered witch.
She gazed at them for a long time. There is something a bit mesmerizing about them. Of course, she could have just been avoiding the intolerable volume of her brother.
That night I wound up feeding these little beings heavy chocolate ice cream at 8PM. My husband congratulated me on coming up with the perfect recipe for keeping them up till all hours, therefore stealing away our Saturday night. But I couldn’t help myself. Sweets for my sweets.