It was suggested we take the kids to a museum the other day.

Huh.

It had never occurred to me to take them to a museum because we are into summer holidays and museums always represented the school year, school field trips or dinosaurs or wigs or things I never found very interesting as a kid who was mostly into doing cartwheels.

If there had been a cartwheel museum, maybe.

The History of The Cartwheel—One Day Only!

I remember a lovely conversation with a Mom about taking her son to a museum where he got to read about insects and touch actual bug carcasses and she was so excited, mostly for him. I thought, “Were there any bugs who could do cartwheels?” because that sounds both gross and boring cocooned in a thorax, abdomen and exoskeleton and it all makes me want to take a nap.

It does make me feel like less of a parent.

I spoke to a Mom recently who was planning an educational day trip to a museum with her kids and they were making a big deal out of the whole outing.

It was the kind of day trip you set your alarm for, ate breakfast on the road because the chicken gizzards on display weren’t going to be in town forever. They would wear a matching beige ensemble equipped with magnifying glasses and Tilley hats.

What is the matter with me?