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Too drizzly for the playground, so it was off to the Children’s Museum for us this afternoon. As it turns out, The Whuff hates the rain cover for his stroller and everything that it stands for. Friend, are you in for a world of hurt as the forecast in Boston from October to April is simply varying degrees of “damp.” Could be worse – could be Seattle (or Reykjavík), but not much.

I do like the way the drizzle makes the city look like its top half has been eaten by clouds.

Today’s “messy room” activity at the Children’s Museum was paint. Ohboy. And if there’s ever a child that has to explore the “messy room” (if only because it’s behind a gate that one can open… and then close…), it’s mine. And so, he met paint for the first time. And they enjoyed each other immensely. (Though we’re still a little hazy on the “it’s not for eating” concept – that’s a lifelong struggle for some artists.)

And it was here that I encountered a man who was Not Of My People. Truly, never have I seen such a thing. His own toddler was wanting to enter the messy area and he was steering the little guy away, claiming that it was “closed” (despite there being another kid within spitting distance and what does he think his Little One is, stupid?) and muttered “Blech. Paint. Let’s go find something else to play with.” BLECH? PAINT? What on earth do you play with if not paint?!

I… I don’t even.

It doesn’t bother me at all that we went home with blue hands and blue spots on our lips as it will wash off in the bath and we *painted* and that’s what life’s all about. We explored the paint and we were happy.


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