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Very, Very Big Planes: The Udvar-Hazy Center of the Air and Space Museum

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 2 Comments

“Big planes fun,” was Sprout’s assessment of our latest outing. Big is a bit of an understatement – one of the aforementioned planes was the space shuttle Discovery – but he has a limited vocabulary. Nonetheless, he definitely expressed enthusiasm when we visited the Udvar-Hazy Center of the Smithsonian’s Air and Space Museum in Virginia this past weekend with old friends of mine and their son.

We weren’t planning on visiting the Air and Space Museum this weekend, but when I saw on Facebook that my friends Greg and Laura were visiting D.C., I had to reach out. Because their son – who just graduated kindergarten – is really into planes, they planned on hitting up both of the Smithsonian’s Air and Space museums. 

While the one on the Mall is more well-known and receives more visitors, the one in Virginia is better. It houses the “big planes” that can’t fit in the smaller facility. When NASA retired the space shuttle program, the museum actually replaced its test shuttle with one that’s actually gone to space. I teased Greg and Laura, who live in New York City, that they have the hand-me-down, as NYC now hosts the test shuttle previously at the D.C. museum.

Front on photo of the Space Shuttle Discovery in front of an American flag

The Discovery Space Shuttle

I don’t think Sprout comprehended what the shuttle was, but he was definitely impressed by it. Up close, the size alone is pretty overwhelming. We tried to explain it had been up with the moon and stars, but I suspect that was lost on him. However, he at least seemed to understand when we said fire came out the back of it. Personally, one of my favorite things about it is the scars from actually being in space. Its panels that protected the astronauts from radiation are faded gray and even white in places, compared to the shiny black of the test shuttle.

After the shuttle, my friends’ son wandered over to the military planes, which held zero interest for Sprout. I think they’re fascinating for older kids with some sense of history, but they don’t have the inherent “wow” factor of some of the largest exhibits. I tried to explain the Blackbird spy plane, which is virtually undetectable by radar, to him. Unfortunately, I think my explanation of what a spy plane is translated into what a toddler can understand came out pretty garbled.

The Blackbird spy plane

In our quick survey of the museum’s exhibits, the next stop was the Concorde, one of the fastest commercial passenger planes ever flown. In past visits, I’ve spent hours stopping at each placard, reading the details carefully. With a small, continuously moving person tugging on my hand, no such luck. This child can stand still for 10 minutes waiting to “watch trains” in the heat without complaint, but can’t wait for 30 seconds for me to read something. He had company on that front though. My friends’ son doesn’t read yet either (or at least enough to understand museum displays), so once he looked at a plane, he charged ahead. I barely had time to provide another brief description of the Concorde – confounded by “accuracy” and “details” by Greg, the engineer of the group – before moving on.

Taking a glass elevator up to a wide catwalk offered an alternative view of the planes, many of which were hanging from the ceiling. We spotted a few “baby planes,” one-seater recreational flying machines that looked more like toys than aircraft. They looked scaled to our kids’ size, but way too dangerous. Those would make me a literal helicopter mom.

We wrapped up the tour with an IMAX movie, in the museum’s theater that actually has a curved screen, not just a flat one. To add to the awesome, the movie, titled Journey to Space, was about the space shuttle program and narrated by Patrick Stewart. A nerderiffic trifecta. While we weren’t sure how well Sprout would do, we figured we’d bail at the first sign of antsiness. We didn’t want a repeat of the Monkey Kingdom incident.

But we didn’t need to wonder. Sprout was transfixed the entire time, hardly wiggling at all. The only time he took his eyes off the screen was when they showed the shuttle taking off, which was very loud. When he heard it, he’d turn around in my lap and wrap his arms around me. Then he’d turn his head slowly back towards the screen, definitely interested but a little unnerved. I loved watching how his curiosity overcame his fear. I also loved that I was able to watch the film withour interuption, as it had a lot of imagery of space and great interviews with astronauts.

Before returning home for naptime, we all ate together in the cafeteria. Unfortunately, McDonalds runs the food service for both Air and Space Museums. I had the foresight to purchase sandwiches earlier, but not quite enough to realize that I either should have brought a way to keep them cold or bought ones that didn’t need it in the first place. No one seemed to get sick, but next time, we’re packing PB&J.

The nice thing about getting everyone sitting in one location was that I actually got to talk to my friends. In the museum itself, we were following our respective children, not wanting to restrict their spirit of exploration but also not wanting to lose them. Sitting down and eating, it was s lot easier to keep an rye on them while also having a conversation. Greg and Laura are actually some of my oldest friends, who I first met in junior high and then became friends with again in college. I visited them in New York City when I did the Climate Ride and it was amazing to realize how much things had changed since then. Between the two couples, we’ve had a kid, moved houses and changed jobs multiple times. While I see what’s going on with them a little via Facebook, it was good to connect in person. I love my friends in D.C., but there’s something special about moving through the phases of life in parallel with people you have known for a very long time. I wish our family didn’t have to go home so soon, but tired toddlers are cranky toddlers.

Old friends, little kids and big planes turned out to be a pretty good combination.

Eight of the Best Games for Your Family Game Night

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / Leave a comment

Eight of the Best Games for Family Game Night. (Photo: Covers of the games Caatan Junior, Ticket to Ride, Apples to Apples, Dixit and Quirkle)

Everyone has their terrible family game night story. From my sister-in-law as a kid throwing the Monopoly board at my husband (who probably cheated) to the game of Risk that never, ever ended, it’s easy to think that board games aren’t worth your time. But the problem isn’t family game night itself – it’s that most older games are just awful. In addition, most “educational” games for kids are badly designed.

Your family deserves better games! As a genuine board game geek that has spent many an hour playing the best and worst games out there, I’ve honed a good sense of what makes a great family game night. Here are eight games for family game night that are genuinely fun for everyone, from little kids to adults.

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Women’s History Month Role Models – Pop Culture

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 7 Comments

Picture: Pictures of Clara Oswald from Doctor Who, Agent Peggy Carter and Anna from Frozen; Text: "Female Role Models in Pop Culture / We'll Eat You Up, We Love You So"

Reading all of the wonderful stories of women being shared for Women’s History inspired me to think about the women who have influenced me. I realized that they fell into three categories – women I personally know, women (and girls) in pop culture, and historical or cultural women in advocacy. This week, I’m going highlight my female role-models and hope you find someone to be inspired by!

Today I’m focusing on female role models in pop culture, particularly action adventure and SF. In addition to being my favorite genres, they also have a historic under-representation of women, especially when compared to movies, TV shows, or books with a romantic or historical focus. Unfortunately, most women in these genres are either “The Girl” in a group made up of all men or Strong Female Characters who are physically capable but over-sexualized and emotionally flat. While the characters I describe are far from unproblematic – both if they were real people and in how their works choose to portray them – I find them to have a number of traits worth emulating.

Princess Elizabeth, The Paperbag Princess: One of the first children’s stories to subvert the traditional “Prince rescues Princess” plots, Princess Elizabeth was probably my first fictional feminist hero. After a dragon burns her clothes and kidnaps her betrothed, Princess Elizabeth sets off to rescue him. After she beats the dragon, she finds out her “practically perfect” fiancé tells her to come back when “she looks more like a princess.” Declaring him a bum, she leaves him in the dragon’s cave alone and skips off to pursue her own destiny. I love how even though she anticipated being a “normal” princess, she does what needs to be done when people are in danger. She also uses her wits to defend the dragon and of course, won’t stand for the Prince’s shallow crap. Too bad Sansa from Song of Fire and Ice didn’t read this book before moving to the castle. (Despite my previous hesitancy, I’m totally on a Game of Thrones kick now.)

Anna in Frozen: In many ways, Frozen is an update of the Paper Bag Princess, with Elsa both acting as the dragon putting others in danger and the prince to be rescued. While it’s an obvious one for the list, it’s important to highlight how Disney has finally given us a female protagonist who is brave, compassionate, smart, self-motivated and deeply flawed. The movie wouldn’t have been nearly as powerful if it didn’t show both Anna and Elsa making bad decisions in their process of recovering from a life-long traumatic situation. While Elsa is such an important symbol for so many people – especially through Let It Go – Anna is a better role model once she’s gotten past the “next day wedding” idea. She’s far more willing to ask for and appreciate help when needed, be emotionally open, and tackle problems rather than hide from them. Although I think these two are the best, other good Disney heroines include Belle (her smarts and compassion), Lilo (her adventurousness and willingness to love outsiders), Rapunzel (her ability to break off an abusive relationship) and Tiana (her independence and passion for her work).

Agent Peggy Carter in Agent Carter and Captain America: I love Peggy Carter and totally want to be her super-spy friend. Unfortunately for me, she’s a fictional character who had her heyday in the post-WW II era. Nonetheless, I definitely appreciate how Marvel took a character who have easily been written off as “the girlfriend” in a superhero movie and showed how she is a badass in her own right. She stands up for herself against historically accurate sexism, outsmarts her co-workers and the bad guys, and is willing to support other women. While she first pushes people away from her to protect them, she comes around and realizes that while she wants to save people, she needs relationships too. From a visual perspective, I like how she has a very straight-forward fighting style, similar to the men surrounding her. While she’s more flexible and a little quicker than them, she doesn’t have the gravity-defying acrobatic style that many women in action-adventure movies do. It shows that you can be as physically tough as a man without being superhuman.

Clara Oswald in Doctor Who: Clara has come under a lot of criticism from Doctor Who fans for being a bit flat and boring during her first season. While the show’s portrayal of her definitely had its problems, her character actually had a lot of subtlety from the beginning. Since then, she’s only gotten much deeper. She’s a control freak overachiever who just wants to help people – the grown-up version of the fairy-tale heroine who always saves the day. And on the show, she frequently does, often through the dual powers of cleverness and compassion. In fact, she even saved it once through a story and a leaf alone. Needless to say, Clara is a woman after my own heart. What I relate to the most is that saving the world isn’t even her day job – she’s constantly trying to balance her travels with being a full-time teacher in an inner-city school. She wants to do good so badly that it exhausts her. Besides depicting this struggle for balance, the show has also used her to poke at the question, “What does it mean to be a good person and a hero?” Her desire to have things be “right” sometimes drives her to despair and other times has lead to drastic abuses of power. So often, shows and books tell us that the people who fight the bad guys are obviously both heroes and automatically good people. I love that Clara tries so hard to be good and is so morally complex in her quest to be so. (Lots more analysis on Clara is available in this TARDIS Eruditorum post and the author’s Tumblr.)

This is by no means an exhaustive list. I know that the female characters in Avatar the Last Airbender are supposed to be excellent, but I haven’t gotten around to watching it yet.

In addition to these laudable characters, a number of shows and movies have complex but far more morally ambiguous characters including Kima Greggs on the Wire; Catelyn Tully Stark, Arya Stark, and Daenerys Targaryen in A Song of Fire and Ice / Game of Thrones; President Laura Roslin, Starbuck, and Anastasia Dualla (Dee) in Battlestar Galactica; Black Widow in the Avengers and Captain America; Evey in V for Vendetta; and Micah Wilkins in Liar. As women come in all shapes, sizes and moralities, I appreciate this diversity.

Who are your favorite female role models in film, literature, and TV, especially in action-adventure and SF?

A Bear of Very Little Brain but a Lot of Heart

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / Leave a comment

When the weather outside is frightful, I’m more willing than usual to bend the rules. While we normally don’t allow Sprout to watch videos – I’d just rather him be outside, looking at a book, or engaging in creative play – I actually suggested an exception a week and a half ago. It was freezing rain, there was a winter storm advisory and there wasn’t anything better in the world to do but snuggle on the couch and watch a movie. So that’s precisely what we did, turning on 1977’s The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.

We picked that particular movie after a rather strange exploration of the Netflix app’s children’s section. Of course, I fully expected there to be a number of inane films, such as Peabody and Mr. Sherman and Cars’ Tall Tales. Then there were a bunch of children’s films that are excellent, but still too old for a toddler, like The Lion King and Spirited Away. What surprised me was how many obviously adult – many R-rated – films were showing up, from Top Gun to Barbarella to Annie Hall. Also, the fact that “Crime TV Shows” is a category in “Kids” at all. I don’t know if someone is screwing with the Netflix algorithm or what, but don’t trust that section to be accurate!

I hadn’t seen this particular version of Winnie the Pooh since I was little, but I’ve had a lifelong fondness for the stories. My mom nicknamed my dad Pooh Bear in college and have a number of Pooh Bear Christmas ornaments. They sang me Loggins and Messina’s House at Pooh Corner as a child and now I sing it to Sprout in both the most joyful and desperate hours. Sprout also has a plaque with the famous quote from Christopher Robin to Pooh about believing in yourself that my mother-in-law originally gave my husband. Needless to say, I was looking forward to sharing these beloved characters with him.

Sprout thought it was fantastic. He laughed multiple times, mostly at appropriate moments. He giggled at Pooh falling out of a tree and spitting out bees in his hapless attempt to steal honey. He also laughed at the part where Rabbit starts hallucinating because he’s terribly lost in the woods, but I told him it wasn’t appropriate to laugh at someone being scared. He probably just thought the imagery was weird, but I don’t want to reinforce that reaction.

Besides what he laughed at, how he laughed was particularly striking. It was a tinny, almost stilted laugh that was different from his usual one. Chris pointed out that this was one of the few occasions he’s had to laugh “at” something rather than “with” someone. Usually when he’s laughing, it’s because we’re tickling him or doing something funny together. It was odd to see how much his laugh varied depending on the situation.

Sprout wasn’t the only one laughing though – both Chris and I enjoyed it quite a bit. While I remembered bits and pieces from before, there were a number of things I had forgotten:

1) How hallucinatory it is: Besides the sequence with Rabbit, there’s also a very trippy part where Pooh imagines Woozles and Heffalumps taunting him. It’s obviously influenced by Fantasia, with multi-colored dancing, spacey elephants and lithe, morphing weasels. For some reason, it also reminded me of the dream sequence in the Big Lebowski, but maybe that’s just because I love that movie. Jeff Bridges would make a very interesting Pooh Bear though.

2) How many jokes for adults there are: It’s easy to think that having jokes for adults in children’s movies was invented by Pixar and Dreamworks, but Winnie the Pooh had its share of them, most adopted straight from the original stories. From the fact that Pooh Bear quite literally “lives under the name of Sanders” with the sign “Mr Sanders” above his house to Owl clearly being based on some boring Cambridge don, there are a wealth of jokes only adults will get.

3) How deeply annoying Tigger is and how other characters react: Tigger is straight-up obnoxious. He bounces in with no warning, yells at other characters, often destroys their stuff, and abruptly leaves, never with any apologies. Now, many children’s characters could be described as “deeply annoying,” but what’s fascinating about Winnie the Pooh is how they explicitly acknowledge that within the text. Tigger’s behavior absolutely pisses off Rabbit and even frustrates ever-patient, kind Piglet. It’s so bad that in a secret community meeting, Rabbit convinces Piglet to help him lose Tigger in the woods! It’s a pretty awful thing to do, even to someone who is highly inconsiderate.

4) How much the stories are about the challenges of building a community, especially when the “people” in it are flawed: Thr conflict with Tigger is fundamentally about an outsider coming in who doesn’t mesh with the current community. Tigger, Rabbit, Piglet and Pooh all behave poorly and face a variety of consequences for it. Because it is a children’s story, they all learn a lesson at the end and get along, but it isn’t so easy as just a quick fix. While both the outsider and the community chooses to adjust their behavior and expectations to serve the greater good, the story definitely suggests that this is going to be an ongoing struggle for Tigger and Rabbit. Similarly, a story where Owl’s house is destroyed in a big storm is about the sacrifices we make for the people we love. While the storm continues to rain and rain, Eeyore searches for a new home for Owl. Finally, Eeyore announces he has found the perfect house, which Owl declares he loves. The only problem is that it’s already Piglet’s house. Saddened by giving up his house, but wanting his friends to be happy, Piglet makes the sacrifice. Thankfully, Pooh turns it into a relatively happy ending by inviting Piglet to live with him, but it’s pretty obvious that Piglet is still sad about giving up his house. It’s this kind of struggling with real moral issues that really rekindled my love for the movie.

While I’m not against showing Sprout movies and TV shows in general, I do want to be picky about what I show him. Just like his books and bringing him out in nature, I want the pop culture he does consume to be kind, thoughtful, and creative. The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh happily met all of my expectations and more.

Butterflies, Spiders, and Insects Galore

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 2 Comments

What could be more beautiful than an iridescent blue butterfly alighting on one’s hand? A lot of things, according to my toddler, and it didn’t even land on him. While I smiled the moment it touched my skin, he shuddered. Fortunately, it flew off before he had a more extreme reaction. While the trip to the Smithsonian’s Museum of Natural History’s butterfly exhibit didn’t quite go as planned, it was still worth the trek out in some frigid weather.

The temperature on President’s Day in Washington D.C. was in the single digits. And yet, I knew I needed to get out of the house; cabin fever sets in on me quickly. I had planned to go to the butterfly house for weeks, so I wasn’t going to allow a little chill stop me.

So we bundled up layer upon layer, complete with a fleece blanket over Sprout in his stroller. While we shivered our way to the museum, it turns out that the butterfly exhibit is a great place to visit in the winter. Because many of the butterflies are tropical, the museum has to blast the heat to keep them active. I had to strip off my fleece jacket to keep from sweating.

Entering the exhibit, I expected to set Sprout down and have him hold my hand as we walked. I also expected him to enjoy the butterflies – butterfly is actually one of the few signs he knows. But I underestimated the sensory overload butterflies cause in a toddler. Instead, he just wanted me to carry him the whole time. On my hip, he displayed his typical watchful eye. As I pointed out the flying wonders perched on leaves and flowers, his attention followed. He was like a little field biologist, seemingly making mental notes about all of the things he saw – blue morpho, Viceroys, blue-banded swallowtails. But that interest didn’t dispel his dislike of their unpredictability. The few times butterflies came close to his head, his whole head twitched. I told him several times, “I know they seem scary, but I won’t let them hurt you” and added, “They’re more afraid of you than you are than them” for good measure. That was, until Chris pointed out that insects probably don’t have a sense of fear. Thanks for the scientific insight, honey.

Butterfly at exhibit in Smithsonian Natural History Museum

Sprout seemed to like the hornworm caterpillars better, which looked similar to the eponymous Very Hungry Caterpillar and were safely contained in a glass jar.

In contrast to the seemingly innocuous butterflies, Sprout was much more enamored with a creepier creature – a giant tarantula. Elsewhere in the museum’s insect zoo, a volunteer was feeding the big spiders. Maybe because the fat, happy, fuzzy spider didn’t move or because it was in a box, Sprout had no problem peering in. Guided by the docent, I explained to Sprout that like the character in one of his favorite books, the Very Busy Spider, this spider also builds webs. But instead of building a web on a fence post, tarantulas build webs on the ground and even make little caves to hide in.

Elsewhere, I continued to connect his favorite stories with animals we saw. Pointing to a crab, I said, “It’s like the one in This is Not My Hat, that gives away the hiding place!” Looking at chrysalises, I commented that they were like the little houses that the Hungry Caterpillar and Squiggly Wiggly build for themselves. In the wilderness photography exhibit, he “maaaaed” at a photo of mountain goats that looked just like the Three Billy Goats Gruff. I love drawing those lines between stories and nature, showing him how science and narrative are not separate things.

But his absolute favorite thing in the entire museum was both unexpected and heart-warming – the model of the right whale. As we walked through the Ocean Hall, he stopped, looked up, and started yelping at it in excitement. Hilariously, he was making his “roar” noise at the gentle creature. I suspect he associates roaring with any large animal, whether it’s a lion, dinosaur or whale. As I wanted to be a marine biologist for years before moving towards science communication in general, I adore the fact that of all things, the whale caught his eye. I can’t wait to bring him on a real whale watch.

In the coldest weather, it was great to enter a different, warmer world outside of our house for a little while.

Bedtime Stories for Grown-Ups

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 5 Comments

Every night, I read 3 to 4 different books out loud to Sprout before I put him to bed. Of course, this is a cherished parental tradition. But recently, Chris and I were talking about reading the “A Song of Ice and Fire series” by George R.R. Martin and I jokingly said that I’d only read it if it was out loud to each other. I had been hesitant to read it for a number of reasons: the books are physically large to bring on the Metro (and I don’t like e-readers), I’m not a big fan of either courtly drama or high fantasy, there’s a fair bit of sexual violence, and most importantly, Martin is an achingly slow writer. The first book in the series, A Game of Thrones, was released in 1996. I don’t have the patience to wait for two more books; it makes Harry Potter seem absolutely speedy. But reading aloud solved, or at least minimized, many of these issues. Reading was time spent together, rather than alone. With such a slow reading speed, Martin might be done with the next book by the time we finished the series. Besides these anticipated benefits, I’ve found a number of other elements I enjoy.

This isn’t the very first time we’ve read aloud to each other. Once when Chris was horribly sick, I read Tolkein’s The Silmarillion to him until he fell asleep. While I didn’t get past the first story, I still remember the experience fondly today.

Like that first time, reading together now is a bonding experience. Of course, this is so obvious in hindsight, considering how much we (usually) love reading to Sprout.

If nothing else, it requires that we go to bed at the same time, a hallmark of a strong marriage. Reading before bedtime forces us to slow down and spend a few minutes together. There’s an easy intimacy to lying in bed and listening to each other, with no agenda, no issues, no reminders of the day before or the day ahead. Just a good, shared story.

Reading the same book simultaneously also gives us a topic of conversation apart from work or Sprout. Often, when we read the same book, it’s weeks, months or even years apart. Either way, it’s no longer on the top of the first person’s head, itching away with a vital urgency, by the time the second person finishes it. Being literally on the same page, we can share our enthusiasm.

While I don’t think marriage counselors ever suggest reading out loud to each other, instead talking about “date nights” that require childcare, perhaps they should. It’s a lot cheaper, if nothing else.

As we go, I also find that I’m enjoying the text more than if I was reading it on my own. Martin’s prose occasionally wanders into the silly, so I can snark on it a little instead of thinking of something clever and having no one to tell. (I do try to minimize the commentary, so I’m not totally obnoxious as a reading partner.) Even though we’re only 100 pages into the first book, he’s already shown a tendency to “Joss” his characters, named after Joss Whedon’s affinity for killing off his most beloved characters. Talking to Chris afterwards relieves my frustrations, instead of just stewing in my annoyance. We’ve already had a few, “Did he just do that?!” moments.

Listening instead of hearing also makes me slow down and truly pay attention to the words the first time. I’m a very fast reader, so I often have to go back and re-read sections because I half-skimmed them by mistake. I’m also a very verbal person, but listening gives me the space to visualize the scene much more than if I was reading. Saying the words and thoughts of the characters out loud further engages me in their world. For just a moment, I am embodying them, speaking their lines as if I’m in a play. It’s much more intense than reading alone would be. I can’t skip past or rush uncomfortable parts – everything must be given appropriate weight and time.

It’s just a small amount each night – four to eight pages, on average. And yet, this little bit of reading together makes all the difference.

Book Club: Goodnight Moon – Absurdism for Toddlers

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 2 Comments

My Book Club – quirky critical takes on children’s literature. Otherwise known as what happens when someone interested pop culture analysis has read the same bedtime story for the 100th time.

As anyone who has met a toddler knows, they have a very different, warped perspective on the world, at least in comparison to adults. Which is why absurdism is such a perfect match for them. So it makes sense that Goodnight Moon is a beloved favorite of that age group – it’s a master class in absurdism in only a few hundred words.

Wikipedia actually provides a surprisingly good, concise definition of absurdism: “Absurdism focuses on the experiences of characters in a situation where they cannot find any inherent purpose in life, most often represented by ultimately meaningless actions and events that call into question certainties such as truth or value.” Common elements include dark humor, nonsensical elements, irrationality, and situations that have little or no meaning. They generally have no moral conclusion and make no judgment on the character’s actions.

Goodnight Moon has many of these elements in abundance. There are hardly any characters, much less those who have an inherent purpose. The little bunny and “old lady whispering hush” appear to be the only things with any decision making ability, and even as they gradually change positions, there’s no clear explanation as to why. The best guess that can be made is that the little bunny is the nameless narrator, saying goodnight to all of the things in his room before going to sleep. As anyone who has ever tried to put a toddler to bed knows, this process will certainly bring certainties of truth, value and sanity into question.

The absurdity is further heightened by the number of times the narrator says goodnight and what they are saying goodnight to. More than half of the book consists of the narrator saying goodnight to some object or another. While a child saying goodnight to stuffed animals and perhaps the moon makes sense, saying goodnight to “nothing,” “air,” and “noises everywhere” indicates either a disturbing personification of ubiquitous objects or an endless echo of goodbyes that have no endpoint. Either is enough to force a grown adult to confront the irrationality of living with a small child in the first place.

The narrative further serves to disorient the reader and warp their perception of reality by having a slightly shifting visual perspective. At first, it appears that the book switches back and forth between showing the bunny’s bedroom and highlighting various objects in the bedroom, from a picture of the three bears to “a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush.” However, the bedroom setting changes slightly over time, showing the old lady saying “hush” there and then randomly not, the room getting dark, and the little bunny (finally) settling down to sleep. In addition to the changes over time, there are also slight changes in the framing of space. The frame of the page subtly zooms in and out of the room, creating an unsettling effect where you aren’t quite sure if what you are seeing is what you saw before. The pages that highlight objects often leave out key details that are in the larger picture. For example, the page focused on the mittens shows only the mittens on the drying rack, even though the larger picture shows the socks also on the rack. The Ugly Volvo hilariously deconstructs all of the other disturbing elements of the “great green room.”

Credit:Burbanked tumblr, Goodnight Moon photobomb Prince

Goodnight Moon even shows hints of postmodernism. As Jed at My Little Po-Mo says (yes, it is a critical analysis blog focused on My Little Pony): “Most of the time, we are unaware of the constructs that shape our reality, so postmodern works try to draw attention to the constructs in play, usually by subverting them.” Goodnight Moon touches on the construct of “what a classic piece of children’s literature is.” It does so by explicitly referring to three different children’s stories in the text and pictures. The first, the “three little bears sitting on chairs,” obviously refers to Goldilocks and the Three Bears, a story that most children in English speaking countries know. The second is the picture on the wall of a mother bunny “fishing” for a baby bunny. Unlike almost all of the other decorations, this is not called out in the text and may not be something that many readers recognize. It is actually a picture from a different book by the same Writer/Artist team, The Runaway Bunny. The third reference is to Goodnight Moon itself, a copy of which is tucked away on the nightstand. These last two references are in clear comparison to the first, suggesting that the authors’ own works are comparable to Goldilocks. As Goodnight Moon has sold millions of copies, it certainly seems like their textual playfulness was prescient.

What makes Goodnight Moon brilliant is it’s use of absurdism to illustrate the toddler mindset. While the book can baffle parents, the utter ridiculousness of the repetition and overall approach seems perfectly normal to them. After all, they’re used to falling asleep in one place and waking up in another, an experience that would be terrifying for an ordinary adult. The world in general is radically weird for little ones; Goodnight Moon helps us enter their very strange perspective for just a little while.

Spinosaurus, Pterosaurs, and Crocodiles, Oh My!

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 1 Comment

Looking at my kid’s room, you might get the impression that he loves dinosaurs. Dinosaur blanket, dinosaur decals on the walls, dinosaur pajamas, a now-deconstructed dinosaur mobile. But of course, any decor intended for an infant reflects the parent’s interests, not the child’s.

The truth is, I love dinosaurs. I’ve been fascinated by them since I was little going from my initial childhood interest to an adolescent Jurassic Park obsession and into adulthood. So when I heard the National Geographic Museum was doing an exhibit on Spinosaurus, the largest predatory dinosaur ever found, I was really excited. After our bonkers December, we were finally able to visit it this past weekend. As a result of my overly-high expectations, I was a little disappointed. Nonetheless, it was a fascinating look at one of the biggest discoveries in paleontology in quite a while.

Beyond the creature’s sheer size, the skeleton has a unique history. Before WII, a German scientist discovered a somewhat complete fossil skeleton. Against his wishes, the Nazis refused to move it from a museum in Munich and it was destroyed when the Allies bombed the city. It remained a mystery for decades until it re-emerged in a Moroccan marketplace. An enterprising paleontologist spotted it briefly and didn’t quite know what it was until a colleague of his showed up with a partial skeleton. Through a combination of luck and persistence, the paleontologist tracked down the original seller and found out the location of the dig. It wasn’t until 2014 that they were actually able to escavate the site and publish their findings.

The first part of the exhibit told this story, through a series of videos, panels and dioramas. Unfortunately, Sprout does not yet have a strong (or any) interest in history. While I couldn’t get him to watch the movies, I did appreciate that they included a few “touchy-feely” elements, including a fossil cast and items similar to those sold in the Moroccan market like fossils and minerals. I knew the term “trilobite” was way too advanced for him, but I enjoyed mentioning it anyway.

Spinosaurus reconstruction at National Geographic Museum

The second half of the exhibit was all about the Spinosaurus itself, with the centerpiece being a huge reconstruction of the 50 ft beast. The display of the skeleton was quite good – it was in a dynamic position, ready to swallow a large saw-toothed fish. Around the room, there were plaques explaining the unique aspects of the Spinosaurus’ biology, from the sail on its back to its jaw full of sharp teeth perfect for eating fish. There were also a few other exhibits showing skeletons and models of dinosaur species that lived in the same region around the same time. I especially enjoyed a pterosaur overhead, looking like it would dive down any moment.

There were also some neat things about the set-up of the exhibit. The skeleton itself wasn’t the actual fossil – it was a 3D-printed model, made out of plastic. Also, a small comment at the end of the exhibit noted that when it finished, all of the fossils would be returned to Morocco. As the British Museum still has a patronizing message posted about how they can’t trust Greece enough to return parts of the Parthenon to them, I appreciated that consideration.

Nonetheless, there were some aspects that didn’t quite fulfill my high expectations. The exhibit was rather small, limited by both the lack of space and the fact it mainly focused on one species. It wasn’t very interactive, with only the aforementioned small “touchy-feely” aspects and a couple of iPads that repeated the same information on the panels. While I went to the exhibit because I was personally interested, I could see the fact that it wasn’t designed for small children could be frustrating for some parents. The history part would probably be dry to anyone under 10 and the discovery is so new that there’s simply not that much we know. Unlike the Smithsonians, the National Geographic Museum has an entry fee, so it seems especially important for its exhibits to prove their worth.

My frustration was undoubtably compounded by the fact that I had to cater to the whims of a sleep-deprived toddler. As Sprout refused to nap earlier in the day and we were in a museum, I was a little nervous about setting off the Whines. So I tried to read as much as I could while also following his lead. Unfortunately, he wasn’t interested in anything for more than 30 seconds, so I could only read dribs and drabs of text before being dragged away by an insistent little person. The panels weren’t very long at all, but some of them required me making two, three or even four passes to read. I came away with the impression of having read a series of tweets instead of a cohesive story. While I could have passed him off to Chris, I entertained hopes of a mommy-son museum bonding experience over dinosaurs. By the time I realized those hopes were misplaced, Chris was so far behind in his leisurely perusal that I couldn’t find him. Plus, as he’s Sprout’s primary caretaker, I like giving him a break on weekends and spending that one-on-one time with my son.

When Chris finally caught up – as I tried to manage the tiny bull in the gift shop – we went over to the museum’s other exhibit, Food: Our Global Kitchen. Needless to say, this was an extraordinarily broad topic. While I skimmed most of it, there were a couple of notable attractions. They had a series of kiosks where you could push a button and smell a food, including garlic, fennel and cinnamon. Sprout very much liked both smashing the buttons and sniffing the air. There was also a “test kitchen” that offered different samples each day. Much to my surprise, Sprout loved their green smoothies, to the point where he tried to lick the empty cup and fussed when I threw it away.

I do wish that we could have come when Sprout was a bit older and could appreciate it more, but the exhibit closes this spring. But considering the National Museum of Natural History’s Fossil Hall is closed for major renovations until Sprout is 6 (although some skeletons have been relocated), the Spinosaurus exhibit was a good hold-over.

A Day at the Museum

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 6 Comments

The New York State Museum in Albany was one of my favorite places as a child. Despite the fact that my mom is a teacher and deeply devoted to education, I dragged her there so many times that even she started getting sick of it. While it’s far from a world-class museum, it has a lovely diversity of exhibits, including large dioramas of taxidermied animals, rock and minerals displays, histories of New York’s Native American tribes, and a tribute to New York City. So when my mom suggested bringing Sprout there over Christmas break, I thought it was worth checking it. Even though he’s was too young to read the placards, we thought he would enjoy looking at the exhibits.

We headed to Albany on Monday morning, walking to the Museum through the huge underground Concourse. I pointed out to Sprout the huge abstract art covering the walls, thinking he would like the giant multi-colored snake and interlocking black and white shapes. However, he was more interested in the noisy construction equipment than looking at modern art. When we finally arrived at the museum’s front doors, we discovered that the exhibits are closed on Mondays. While we considered detouring to a different museum, we ditched the entire thing and headed home.

The day after Christmas, we decided to give the New York State Museum another try after a play date with one of my mom’s friends’ kids was canceled. This time, they were actually open.

We started off with the Adirondack exhibit. Sprout was fascinated by the majestic stuffed elk in front of a running waterfall, although I couldn’t tell if it was the animal, the water, or the coins in the pool that kept his attention. We spent about 10 minutes looking at that single display and he still kept trying to go back when we tried to leave. However, not all of the animals were nearly that popular. Looking skeptically at both the moose and the mastadon, he wouldn’t get too close, wary of their size.

On our way out of the Adirondacks section, we came upon the Children’s Discovery Center, which I had forgotten about. When I was a kid, it was filled with computers that allowed you to play Odell Lake (a game where you played a fish trying not to get eaten) and other vaguely educational games. When hardly anyone had a home computer, those black and green screens were the height of excitement. As many kids now have their own iPads, the Center has since gone in the opposite direction. Everything was touchy-feely, with the only screens being those showing a microscope close-up of insect mouthparts. Like our local nature center, they had animal furs, skins, bones, and fossils to touch.

They also had a small collection of wooden puzzles, animal puppets, and dress-up costumes. Playing with one of the puzzles, Sprout brought one piece over to the middle of the floor, near another, slightly older boy. The boy must have been playing with the same puzzle earlier, as he immediately shouted, “Mine!” in typical toddler fashion. While the little boy’s dad was in the middle of telling him that he had to share, Sprout did something surprising. He went back to the puzzle across the room and brought back a different piece for the boy to play with. When the kid kept whining, he brought over the entire puzzle to share. It was such a kind gesture; I was so proud of him for being generous when he didn’t have to be.

Next up was one of my favorite sections of the Museum – the area on the Iroquois Native American confederacy. While these days it looked out-of-date and probably had some level of cultural insensitivity (I didn’t have time to read the placards), at one point, it did spark my interest about a culture very different from my own. The heart of the exhibit is a large replica of a longhouse. While visitors can walk through much of it, the end of it is blocked off and has a diorama of people listening to a story around a fire. With its poor lighting and audio narration, entering that longhouse felt a little like stepping back in time to me. Creeping into it slowly, afraid yet still very interested, I think Sprout understood a little of that feeling. As we left, I explained to him that descendants of these people are still around and continue to use some of the costumes for ceremonies. While I know he didn’t understand my explanation, but it was important for me to say it anyway. I want him both to know about the history of a variety of ethnic groups as well as understand that history is more than just a story in a book – that these people still exist today and the events of the past reverberate through our modern day.

Next up was the New York City exhibit, which was a bit of a mixed bag. He loved the subway car parked in the middle of the floor, giggling as he ran in and out of it. Although we’ve been on the D.C. Metro many times, he clearly didn’t make that connection that they were the same thing. Obviously, we haven’t made the jump from generic “train” to “subway” yet. He was pretty indifferent about the Sesame Street display, only interested by the historical clips they were playing on a dinky TV. He could have cared less about Oscar the Grouch being there in person. For obvious reasons, we skipped the September 11 exhibit and finished off with a walk through the room of historical fire trucks. As he took in the 20 pieces or so of huge shiny fire equipment, his eyes went wide. While many of them were both practical and decorative, a silver one that could have been Cinderella’s carriage was actually used only in parades.

We wrapped up our trip with a ride on the museum’s historic, restored carousel. While not as bright or elaborate as some, its horses were truly lovely. Although we’ve been in carousels elsewhere, Sprout had clearly forgotten those experiences, because his mouth dropped when his horse moved upwards. As the ride spun faster and faster, he gazed at the cranks spinning round and round that move the horses up-and-down. I definitely knew he enjoyed it when as soon as it stopped, whiny grousing commenced. Fortunately, we had a built-in reason we couldn’t repeat the ride – the carousel is so fragile that they only run it every 15 minutes, saving both the historical landmark and parents’ sanity.

Reflecting on our day, I realize how drastically different my experience was before and after having a child. I used to read every placard, trying to imprint the information into my brain. This time, I had neither the luxury of time or focus to do more than skim them. Previously, I meandered from exhibit to exhibit, lingering on those I found particularly interesting. Now, I followed Sprout from place to place, letting him take the lead.

This is not to say that we’ll stop visiting everything but kid-oriented museums. In particular, I know the New York State Museum so well that there was nothing I would have gained from a close reading. There’s still plenty of places that I’ll want to do more than skim and I believe it’s important to show him we love to learn as well.

But it does mean that the way I approach museums – even the most beloved of them – will radically change. And that’s quite alright with me – seeing my inquisitive little boy learning right beside me brings new meaning to the whole experience.

Partying with the Other Cartoon Mouse

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 3 Comments

From reading parenting blogs, there appears to be a trifecta of parental hate: Calliou, glitter (the herpes of craft supplies), and Chuck E. Cheese. So when Sprout was invited to his first proper kid birthday party at Chuck E Cheese, I was intrigued. I loved the place as a kid, but I was a kid then, so what did I know? I found that while it wasn’t as bad as everyone says it is, it was rather mediocre – somewhat fun, no more and no less.

Although Sprout hid behind my legs when we first arrived, processing all of the action, he moved on to the toddler rides soon enough. Much like the their bigger cousins at Disney World, he showed much more interest than enjoyment. His little face showed rapt attention, his eyes concentrated and mouth neutral. It wasn’t that he disliked the rides – when we lifted him off one, he’d tap the seat and look at us, asking to put him on again. Instead, he was focused on absorbing and making sense of the experience. He requested going on the tiny carousel and the creepy clock swing so many times that we had to take a break for our own sanity. I have no idea how on earth they could be fun, but I am clearly not the target audience’s age.

Of course, the other essential part of the Chuck E Cheese experience is the games. Which – and I know this makes me sound hopelessly old, boring and nostalgic – were really disappointing. A few classics were present: driving games, basketball, and my old favorite, skeeball. They had a baby basketball game, which after the Thanksgiving playground incident, I knew Sprout would enjoy. As we handed him balls, he gently placed them in the basket. It was absolutely adorable.

But most of the games weren’t worth wasting free tokens on. A few were cutesy one-shots, where you had 1 level that took 30 seconds and couldn’t progress to the next level without putting in more money. No marathon sessions of side-scrollers like the old days. But even worse, the large majority of “games” were kiddy slot machines. They just dispensed tickets instead of money. They required little to no skill, offered a single chance, and promised big prizes with low odds of winning. Instead of a place where you could play with your friends to accomplish a goal (even if it was an inconsequential one), these games have turned arcades into casinos! I don’t want Sprout feeding my money into these machines, I don’t want him to be isolated, I don’t want the plastic crap the tickets pay for, and I definitely don’t want him gambling. I was very glad he was too little to pay notice to these games – I’ll take the baby rides any day.

About halfway through the party, the staff members pulled us together for pizza and the Chuck E. Cheese show. The pizza reminded me of the “good pizza” in the elementary school cafeteria. The birthday cake itself (not from Chuck E. Cheese), was simple – sandy tan frosting – but toy tractors on top turned it into a perfect tiny construction site. The rock-star themed show consisted of a costumed staff member “jamming out” with the birthday kid. The birthday boy – who had just turned two – had no clue about the symbolism but had a grand time anyway. He loved the inflatable guitar and crown, even though he had difficulty understanding, much less following, the instructions of the Chuck E. Cheese staff member. Under her beaming smile, you could tell she was the tiniest bit exasperated with trying to get a two-year-old to play along with a party template designed for an older child.

Standing around the pizza table was the first time all of the adults attending the party were in the same place. Before that, we were following our kids around the ride/game area, ensuring they didn’t put anything weird in their mouths or push other kids. Now, we were so physically close that normal social graces would require us to converse. But anything with multiple toddlers doesn’t fall within the bounds of normal social graces. Instead, we ignored each other, focusing on our kids eating without causing a disaster area. I kind of wanted to talk to people, but didn’t even know where to start. The only person we knew was the birthday kid’s dad, which Chris met at a Halloween party at our town’s community center. Instead, Chris and I talked to each other and watched Sprout eat his pizza cheese-first.

In the end, we cashed in our few tickets for stickers and headed home, having survived our first trip to Chuck E. Cheese as a family.