Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Ah, Pulaski Day

Emma had the day off from school Monday in honor of Pulaski Day (an Illinois thing), so we were able to hook up with Debbie, Brynn and Jack. First we ate a yummy brunch at Ann Sather's (seriously, their cinnamon rolls are the best I've ever had in my life), and then we hit the Swedish American Museum. They have a cool children's area where kids can role play with all sorts of colonial sets and props. I wish I knew more about exactly what time period the museum was trying to replicate, but the weird chaperone guy who followed us everywhere would only repeat, "This side is Sweden. This side is America. Nothing from Sweden goes to America. Nothing from America goes to Sweden." At one point, Deb asked him what the Swedish call their horses and what significance the animal holds because she has Swedish friends who have elaborately painted horses all over their house (and there were also several throughout the museum). Completely straight-faced, he answered, "The Swedish call their horses...horses. They are not significant. They are just horses." Um, o-kay. No more questions from us.

Because the museum didn't open until 1pm, the afternoon ended with an overtired toddler meltdown that culminated in me wrestling a screeching Sophie into her coat in front of several strangers. (No exaggeration...we were both rolling on the ground, and I'm grunting and begging in desperation to get the stupid coat on without bumping into highly breakable Swedish artifacts, and horrified patrons gawked at our every move and the freaky woman working the front desk exclaimed, "I suppose this should trouble me, but it makes me so happy to see how much she doesn't want to leave!") But temper tantrum and odd museum employees aside, the kids had fun. Here's a few pics from our day.

2 comments:

Annie Crow said...

Cool, I had never thought about going there, but now I will.

Rasquachi said...

I actually hate the Swedish-American Museum precisely because of asshole staff members like the oe you just described. And he is WRONG about the horses... in Swedish they are called Dalahäst. They were sooo rude to my mom when she tried to go in that I will never set foot in there again. Thankful i married a Norwegian! (haha... just a little Scandinavian rivalry there)

XO
Steph Diaz Reppen