the bureaucrat, the dictator, the anarchist, and dinosaurs

I have a theory.  Every one gets one museum kid...and probably only one.  Your odds might change if you have a couple of dozen kids, but generally, if you have the typical 2.5 offspring, chances are, you get just one.

The ill-fated T-Rex photo op.  No one was happy.
But the Dictator was the unhappiest.

Simply put, museum kids like museums.  Art, natural history, science, agriculture, whatever.  If it has artifacts/or educational displays, the museum kid will enjoy a leisurely stroll through its halls.  Non-museum kids may range from disinterested in museums, to violently opposed to museums.

I was a museum kid.  Every time my family went on vacation, I would excitedly peruse the museum brochures to select which exhibits we would visit first.  I would nerdily read the plaques discussing the history/attributes of various artists.  I would interact with each and every interactive display.  I even contemplated moving into a museum...taking up residence amidst the ancient ceremonial bloodletting bowls of the indigenous tribes of prehistoric Michigan, or some such nonsense.

My sister was decidedly not a museum kid.  She would whine, cry and generally make our lives miserable at museums until we finally caved and went back to the hotel's indoor pool, per her "request."

From the moment of her birth, I was certain that our Dictator would be a museum kid.  She was focused, observant, intelligent, mature, rule-following, and well-behaved in public places. She liked libraries, churches and the homes of quiet elderly people.  Clearly, this was a museum kid.

From her birth, I was convinced that our Anarchist was our anti-museum kid, because, well, she was an anarchist.

The happy Anarchist plays dinosaurs with
the Bureaucrat.  Look at how attentive she is!

A recent jaunt to the Cranbrook Science Institute set me straight.  After whining briefly about wanting a snack--it was lunchtime, after all--the Anarchist happily set about exploring the dinosaur exhibits.  "Ooh...a troodon!  I LOVE that one!  He is so CUTE!"  She proceeded to dig in the pretend "excavation" sites for dinosaur bones, color dinosaur pictures, and play with plastic dinosaurs.  There was only one episode of tantrum-y rage, involving her inability to share a little red toy dinosaur with an adorable and helpless infant, but we'll ignore that moment, as it was not indicative of her museum behavior, as a whole.

The Dictator expresses her disgust at being forced
to remain inside a museum filled with one of her
favorite things--dinosaurs--for a second longer.

The Dictator, on the other hand, was a whining nightmare.  After briefly enjoying the pteranodon display, she quickly turned vicious.  "I don't WANT to look have my picture taken...I only want to go home right away!"  She didn't want to see the mammoth, the cultural exhibits, the gift shop, or the super-phenomenal insect display.  "I NEVER want to look at ANYTHING!"  Okay, then.  In the excavation exhibit, she became extremely dictatorial, instructing other children that it was no longer time to dig up fossils, but to re-bury them.  And rue the day the Dictator is left without a small stool ("but not the red kind") upon which to sit whilst digging...I mean, "re-burying."  Oh man, was I wrong about her museum-enjoying capabilities!

Luckily, the day was saved by the, apparently, fascinating and child-hypnotizing kinetic motion machine in a tiny wing off the main drag of the museum.  The kids spent a half an hour following moving balls like mesmerized kittens while the Bureaucrat and I took a much-needed rest on a bench.  So the day wasn't entirely wasted.  At the end of it, the Dictator even thanked us for the "best treat ever."  I assumed she was talking about the fruit snacks I had bought her from the vending machine downstairs, but lo and behold, she assured me that she meant the trip to the museum.  So maybe I do have two museum kids after all...that would be nice, but I'm thinking it might be too much to hope for.

Check out some pictures of our little adventure, here:

The Bureaucrat makes the trip that is startlingly
similar to his weekend commute on his day off.
What a nice husband I have!

I always win the prize for most photogenic!

She sang joyfully the entire trip.

The Dictator was the picture of pure happiness...until we got to the museum.

See...everyone is satisfied.  That's because we
haven't actually ventured into the museum yet.

Here we are in the interactive section. 
The Bureaucrat is trying to engage the Dictator in
some creative play...to no avail.  She is already deeply
concerned with dictating how the other children play
with the excavation exhibit. 

While at the museum, this happened
to my tights.  I had to go around the rest
of the day looking like a street walker.
And you don't see me throwing a tantrum,
do you?  (That's because I threw it in the
bathroom stall where nobody could see me).

Loner at the Cheez-It Table

Cool kids at the Fruit Snacks Table.

Segregated Snacking.  The Anarchist, the Dictator and Mini Mommy
shun the Bitty Bruiser, whose unfortunate snack choice--Cheez Its--
won her a seat at the table for losers.

Some more angry shots with the dinosaurs.
The Anarchist calmed down shortly after this
was taken.  The Dictator stayed angry "forever!"

The Anarchist interacts with
all the interactive displays...

...nerdily reads all the plaques...

...and plans to spend the night at the museum...with
this chick, who introduced her virtual self as "Meg."
"I like you, Meg!  You're so cute!  How are you?" asks
the Anarchist, clearly lacking a firm grasp on reality.

The Anarchist really enjoyed the bug exhibit.  The Dictator growled
at the bug exhibit.

All's well that ends well.  Thanks Kinetic Motion Exhibit.

Thanks for giving me two museum kids, after all.

The Anarchist asked to go back later that night.

The Dictator claimed that she "loved" the museum.

A happy Dictator equals a happy Morton family.