Digging dinosaurs

Went to the American Museum of Natural History in New York last week. "To see the dinosaurs," we explained, and that mantra was repeated by the kids in the days leading up to it. Each morning Kate would wake up. "Are we going to see dinosaurs today?" No, Kate, this is Monday. On Thursday we see dinosaurs. Next morning: "We see dinosaurs today?"

It was remarkably easy to drive into the city, park in the garage, take the elevator up to the fourth floor, and see some immense dinosaur skeletons. I honestly have no idea why in four years here this was the first time we'd done it, although I guess the kids wouldn't have appreciated it as much.

And the great thing was that they had fun and were awesome. No whining, no crying, no wanting to be picked up and carried....well, not much until the end. But it was a family outing into a crowded museum in the city with very little stress or angst. (Until we got back to the garage and our car was triple-parked in on both sides and it took half an hour for them to get us out. But anyway.)

We went around and around the skeletons. Jack wanted me to take a picture of him running away from the T. Rex, which was great in part because I wanted Emily to take a picture of ME running away from the T. Rex when we were at the Dinosaur Dig museum over a decade ago. So yes that is where he gets it. So I took the picture, although I'm not sure how much he sold the running. He did at least make a sort of scared face, although it mostly came out as angry/laughing.

Both of them wanted to touch everything. Both of them ducked underneath railings to get even closer to the exhibits; I explained, no no, the railings are to keep YOU out.

Jack was disappointed there weren't sea creature dinosaurs. I admit I was too. Maybe we missed them somewhere.

We went down a floor to see African creatures: elephants, giraffes, zebras. "Zebra!" yelled Kate. Shhh, I said.

Walked through the monkey room. The kids made faces and pretended to be monkeys. Kate made a big loud mouth like she was screaming or saying OOH OOH, one of the above. Jack scratched his head and stood on one foot. He's a good monkey.

We went through the Indian exhibit and Jack was impressed by their weapons and musical instrument. I think Kate liked their dolls.

At the gift shop, Kate picked out a stuffed monkey. (I thought this was fine because they liked the monkey room, and it was no doubt a museum original. Two days later I found the same beanie baby monkey in a toy store near us, not to mention for half the price. At least I won't have to go back into the city when she loses this one.)

I figured Jack would pick out a stuffed toy, and he did look at dinosaurs. But instead he settled on this thing where you could dig, build, and paint your own dinosaur skeleton. It was heavy as a brick -- indeed, it was a brick -- with a skeleton encased inside; you had to dig it out, then assemble it.

The next night, he and Kate and Emily and I -- but mostly him -- spent 2 hours intently digging away with his little hammer and chisel. And then another 2 hours the next morning finishing digging, assembling it, and then painting it. Jack is 5; finding anything that occupies his rapt attention for 4 hours, is amazing.

Each time he found a bone, or extracted it, he was so excited. "Look, daddy! It's a leg bone. A LEG bone!" Kate: "Can I help you, Jack? Can I have a turn?" (She got a turn.)

The dinosaur skeleton, painted white and black with red around its mouth and forearm ("from where it was fighting," Jack explained), stands on our fireplace mantle now.