Chicken Frye-d

I want to begin by saying that I love the Frye Art Museum. It is a lovely little gem of a museum--for adults, or even for older children. It is not, however, a gem for young children.

In January of this year, I had the opportunity to entertain Emmett and Finnegan, Joanne and my two (at the time) four-year old sons. I pored over Parent Map for inspiration, and finally decided that the boys and I would head down to the Frye Art Museum to see "Trimpen: Klompen,” a sound sculpture made of 120 wooden clogs. Afterall, it got the Parent Map Editor's Pick star, so how could we go wrong?

Where do I start?

I was excited by the prospect of taking two adorable boys to an art museum, and I was filled with a sense that someone might nominate me for the "Cultural Mother of the Year" award. The three of us tromped up the stairs, opened the doors, and were immediately greeted by someone I now fondly refer to as the Museum Nazi.

"What are the rules of the museum?" the Museum Nazi asked, Colonel Klink-like, before the door closed behind us, his right arm at his side twitching to raise.

The boys and I exchanged sideways glances.

"No picking your nose." That's my boy!

"No hitting." That's her boy!

"No touching, no loud talking, no running, no walking fast, no dancing, no figdeting, no wiggling, no this, no that, no nothing, no anything, nein, nein, nein!" That's the Museum Nazi.

I should have taken the boys and walked out the door on the spot. Instead, determined that this was just par for the musuem course (Wasn't everyone greeted at a musuem in a similar fashion?) and armed with my knowledge that this was a Parent Map Editor's Pick for things to do with children, I grabbed the boys' hands, stared down the Museum Nazi, and headed off toward the elusive clogs. We didn't have far to go, and when the boys saw 120 shoes hanging from the ceiling, they broke free and started running toward the clogs.

The Museum Nazi was close at our heels. "NO RUNNING!"

Now, before you side with the Museum Nazi, let me say that these are two, beautiful little boys. And they are well-behaved. But, I'm not stupid. They are boys and when they are together, well, they love being together and they get silly. I did not need a chaperone. I had a handle on things, but the Museum Nazi was obviously suffering from Prison Guard Syndrome. I was not about to let any priceless works of art be harmed.

Back to the exhibit...

The boys stopped wiggling--as long as four-year old boys stop wiggling (approximately 3.7 seconds)--and we stared at the shoes. What the heck were they supposed to do? Wasn't this a sound sculpture? That's when I saw the coin deposit box. Yes, for a mere 25 cents, we could watch the show. I dig into my purse, while keeping the boys in check, and find three quarters. Great. Each boy gets one, and I get the final one.

The first quarter drops, the shoes start to dance...and so do the boys.

"NO DANCING!"

Now, two other adults are standing there with us (watching the show we were paying for in so many ways) and they had started doing little head- and shoulder-bob moves (for no apparent reason that I could see or hear, but I digress), but the Museum Nazi didn't care about them. He cared about my would-be clogging slam dancers. Fortunately, the show was short--maybe one minute.

We used the final two quarters and with the Museum Nazi following our every move, I once again took the boys' hands and marched right out the way we came, stopping only to give the evil eye to the Museum Nazi and to stop at the front desk and ask why, why, why would this exhibit be picked by the editor of Parent Map? He had no answer. I complained about the Museum Nazi. Again, blank stare.

What a thoroughly cultural five minutes that was.