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Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Day 11: Fun With Cubism & Him Got No Head

Gentle reader will notice we’ve steered clear of culture in our wanderings through two world capitols. This wasn’t merely because of our creeping philistinism or a belief that Mikey couldn’t handle a museum – though, when we passed the Louvre on our arrival in Paris, Mikey literally passed out. It was nap time, to be fair, and we were in a gently rumbling cab.

In plotting the trip, I had multiple itineraries, and some of which included museums. In Paris, I noted the location and a possible day to visit the Musée de Rodin sculpture garden, the Picasso museum in the Marais , the Centre Pompidou, and even – based on Amanda Kaiserman’s recommendation – the Musée de la Chasse, which is a museum of taxidermy … which might’ve been too creepy for even me. In London, I had the British Museum, the Museum of Childhood in the East End, and the V & A, which is supposed to be very child-friendly. We never made it to any of those places, and I blame the good weather for that. For the most part, we wanted to be outside.

On the last day in London, however, we were meeting our friend Helen, her mother, and her daughters, and they told us to go to the Tate Modern in the south bank. Mikey, of course, wanted to go by Tube, and we didn’t really know where we were going so we wound up there a bit early.


It’s a spectacularly cavernous space, and upon entering, I thought Mikey might be tempted to see whether it echoed with the same booming clamor as he was able to create in the Resnick Exhibition Pavilion in his hometown museum, LACMA. Instead, we headed up to the top floor which is called the “Under 5s Zone,” a “creative, physical and sensory exploration of themes inspired by Cubist artworks.” A neat idea, a playground interpreting work by Georges Braque and Juan Gris: to Mikey, it was a slide, a maze, and a climbing wall. And, as luck would have it, Helen and her family had also arrived early, and so Mikey had Lily and Lulu, two older little girls to explore it with.

We had lunch in Café 2, sensibly located on the 2nd level, and then we all walked across the Millennium Footbridge over the Thames, from the Tate Modern to St Paul's Cathedral.

There were the usual buskers in front of the Cathedral, including a man in a suit, whose hat was evidently floating above his open collar.


“Mikey, look at that funny man,” I said to Mikey, who was oblivious, chasing Lily and Lulu around.

He looked and he stared, and then he screamed, “HIM GOT NO HEAD!”

This was not an amusing illusion to a 2-year-old. It took a few minutes to calm him down. For weeks after, if we made any reference to someone bonking or hurting their head, Mikey would whisper, “Like him in London?”

When Mikey had settled down, we said our goodbyes, and were off to meet our friends Sarah and Craig at the Mandarin Oriental. By the time we settled for drinks and food in the Bar Boulud, Mikey was stretched out on the banquette, sound asleep. God knows what his dreams were like.

1 comment:

Bev Jackson said...

Aw, poor Mikey. Probably not a bad to start the reality of the empty headedness of so many of his humankind to come. But innocence, aww.

The verification word today is "blessol" Bless ol us'ns.