Monday, April 13, 2009


Today I'm taking the kids to a large museum, by myself.

This means that people will either shake their heads in disgust and whisper to their friends that some people don't know how to control their children, or compliment me on how well-behaved they are. Possibly both.

Sometimes when people realize that I have brought a 2-, 4-, and 6-year old on an outing by myself, they will call me "brave." I usually respond that "stupid" is the more appropriate word for it.

But something happens every time we do these brave/stupid outings, whether it's a day trip to a beach where we search for buried treasure/spend twice as much time fighting and whining in the car as we do in the sand, or a hike on a trail along the river where we are surrounded by butterflies and witness a formation of fighter jets flying overhead/can't convince my 2-year-old daughter that, at some point during a hike, you are actually supposed to move forward along the trail. And some of us need to use the bathroom.

We have moments of pure bliss. We have fun. My kids are amazed and enthralled by something. They experience something new, in real life, not on a TV or computer screen, or even a book. We create memories. Over time, most of the bad stuff fades into the background and we're left with fun and enthralling.

So, so, so worth it.

That being said, you might not want to ask me how it went right away. Better to wait a week or so.

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