Half Nelson

We hadn't been to the Nelson since April, so we were way overdue.







Em, naturally, reacted as if I'd proposed she smuggle high level nuclear waste into an orphanage.







But to my surprise, Mo didn't have much interest either. Her words were, and I quote, 'No! Nooooh!'







I solved Em's attitude problem by inviting her friends from down the street along.







Mo was a harder nut to crack. But when we actually got to the gallery she got all happy-headed, like this was what she'd really wanted and I'd just read her mind.



In the car on the way there, I was surprised to hear one of the entourage talk about how she'd seen inappropriate sculptures last time she was at the Nelson. By inappropriate, it quickly became clear, she meant nekkid people who didn't have Barbie-style asexual loins. The sculpture that outraged her most, was (I think) a Rodin 'The Kiss.' I said, Don't worry, they're married. Then realized that this comment meant nothing to a kid who didn't believe her parents ever saw each other naked.

Ahem.



We had a ball. Despite a late start, road construction and so on that put us in the museum half an hour before closing. After they tossed us out, we hit the lawn, and then the girls decided the wanted to walk down to the fountain at the foot of Volker Park. And that lead to a little stroll along Flush Creek.





On the way to the car a discussion about whether who had or hadn't been to the top of the Liberty Memorial led me to a return route that lead by it. And when we passed it, they realized everyone in the car had been up there.







We looped through the Crossroads District, scoped out the TWA Moonliner. And on the way back to the highway, found our way by Boulevard, makers of some of the best beers on earth.







In the car on the way back Em and her buds decided to see how loudly and obnoxiously they could sing. Louder than bombs, it turns out. Literally loud enough to hurt my ears. I responded by trying to find the most annoying thing on the radio and cranking it.







Eventually, they wore out from the competition and fell all but asleep. Yes! I am the champion of racket! I rule.