With story time over until January, I have a void to fill. Â It’s too cold to take walks outside. Â I need a break from mallwalking. Â We’vebeen to Greenfield Village and the Henry Ford Museum already. Â We’vebeen out on many lunch dates. Â I even took her to the musical dress rehearsal at my brother’s high school he teaches at. Â Starting to run out of ideas, I decided to take her to the Detroit Institute of Arts. Â The D.I.A.
The first step in going to the art museum was to figure out Ellie’s outfit. Â I had attempted to go earlier in the week and had already picked out an artsy outfit, but the museum was closed, and she peed on it. Â So I had to pick out something different. Â A different artsy outfit. Â I thought about going all black going for the pretentious architect look. Â But she doesn’t have all black, so I decided to go for the emo-rocker look. Â That might be a sub category to “artsy outfit”. Â I put her in a black AC/DC onesie with black leggings that had a black and white striped ruffled skirt attached to it. Â To top off the outfit I did red socks with her red sparkle Wizard of Oz Dorothy slippers. Â Bling!Â When we got to the museum most of the women had on skinny jeans or leggings with boots, which is what I had originally picked out for her. Â I’m good at this, I think.
I was hoping for Ellie to get a little excited when we got to the museum. Â Who doesn’t want a baby that appreciates art from Italian Renaissance? Â We went to the grand gallery first. Â It has a really high decorative ceiling with big chandeliers. Â She just glanced up briefly as if to say, “This is nice… but I’ve seen better.” Â So I took miss fancy pants out of the stroller and we started roaming the galleries. Â We started in the modern art galleries where she developed a rating system. Â We’d stand in front of a painting and I’d point and ask if she liked it. Â Most often she’d look at me, then look at the painting, then back at me as if to say, “Are you kidding? Â This is art? Â I make better ‘art’ inside my diaper.” Â And then she’d start playing with the button on my jacket. Â This meant the painting was “LAME.” Â But sometimes she’d stick her hand out towards the painting. Â Like she was trying to high-five it.Â This meant, “I LIKE it.” Â And very few times, and mostly with the impressionists, she’d smile and clap her hands. Â “I LOVE it!”
I wonder if I can use this same rating system when she starts dating.
You know… when she’s thirty-five.