One of the advantages to living in Little Rock is the Clinton Presidential Center. This center is an amazing asset to our community. Full disclosure, I have dear friends who work there and I think they are the bees knees. The latest example of how nifty they are: an exhibit of Dr. Seuss art.
On Dr. Seuss’ birthday, the Center invited area children to come and tour the exhibit as well as listen to an amazing woman read Dr. Seuss and see selected songs from Seussical the Musical performed by a local high school theater group. Monkey Boy’s school decided to take them up on the field trip. Monkey Boy wanted me to go, or rather, the last time I did not go on a field trip, he acted as if I’d tried to sell him on the street for crack money, so once I again I set off to prove my worth as a parent.
Just to up the ante to a nice insane pitch, my doctor put me on steroids for an ear infection. I was having what can only be described as “roid rage” leading up to this blessed adventure. I.was.angry. I was jumpy. I was pissed off. Now that’s exactly the kind of woman to send into a confined space with 300 preschool kids.
For reasons I’m sure a perfectly competent child psychiatrist could explain, when parents are introduced into the teacher-school mix, without fail, the children of those parents immediately turn into raging terrors. Monkey Boy wanted to be held, bossed other kids around, whined, complained, pouted and then told everyone I was bee-u-tee-ful. (OK, the last part was a shameless ploy to get back in my good graces and it completely worked) My new favorite mother at the school finally had her fill of her own daughter’s behavior and snapped at her, “Why are you being such a brat?!” I love that woman. Keep in mind, all of this had happened before we ever even entered the front doors. Thankfully, after I issued one of my better threats in Monkey Boy’s ear, things shaped up pretty quickly.
We managed to get through the place and not to break anything, which is no small accomplishment. Monkey Boy did knock over an old lady’s cane. Then when I went to pick it up, I knocked it over again. So we are probably on some AARP watch list for elder abuse. I called one child from his class the wrong name the whole time when speaking to his father, who was entirely too polite to correct me. So my flake factor remains high in the eyes of other parents, which was to be expected.
The exhibit is pretty cool. You don’t have to be a kid to enjoy it. If you’re in the area, go see it. I don’t really recommend going with that many children… well to anything… ever, but that’s just me. The kids said they had a great time. So we’ll let that be enough.