Where’s The Painting?

It was Hazy’s last morning of Tenacity and George and I walked/scootered her over to the courts. Fun fact: I was on the Connelly Partners softball team for several years and I have a sweet collection of team t-shirts (I swear this is relevant). You know what’s the perfect shirt to wear walking your kids into tennis & literacy camp? One that says MILF on the back. Oops. Fortunately, I realized on the walk over (thanks, construction guys) and turned it inside out. Literacy wardrobe malfunction averted! On the walk back, George had a minor dream come true when he got to see this <insert construction vehicle name here> in action:

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I have to admit, it was pretty cool.

While Hazy developed her tennis and literacy skills, George practiced for his back up (after swimming) Olympics sport, diving. He may have a shot. (Sorry, Phillipinos. You’re way better than I’ll ever be.)

After Tenacity and lunch, we headed to the MFA with the lovely and talented Michelle. At what age do you think kids can start appreciating fine art? I’m not certain, but I can tell you it does not seem to be 4 or 7. When we walked into the museum, George kept asking, “Where’s the art? Where’s the painting?” and then I realized he thought the Museum of Fine Art was a place where kids get to paint and create “art”, which is what I call it whenever we do coloring. Needless to say, he was disappointed that it was just a bunch of Monets and Chihulys.

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We might need her to join Fart Machine, just so we can use this as an album cover.

Our art appreciation mainly involved playing with binoculars, picking a giant baby head’s nose, making slides out of things, and fine art acting, which is a more sophisticated version of photo acting.

The fine art acting was Michelle’s idea.

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Dead ringer.
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Nailed it.
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Multi media acting!
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“I’m only doing the face.”
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Master class, Michelle. Master class.

Hazy did get briefly into sketching this sculpture.

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She drew one bike.
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But she took it very seriously.

The kids lay or sat on about a dozen benches, including these ones.

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This Buddha is telling me to talk to the hand.
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“Fainting Couch” 2016

There was a teensy bit of art appreciation.

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There’s a fine line between appreciating and destroying.
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George is unimpressed.
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G: Come look at this thunderstorm! Me: It says it’s the seventh plague of Egypt. G: I never want to go there.

Before we left, we did an outdoor photo shoot.

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Best we could do.

 

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This was our best side, Michelle, but I appreciate the options.

Thank you for the (extremely) hot date, Michelle!

After the museum, we cooled off in the mini pool, which consisted mostly of playing Baby, more cannonballs, splash fights, and rosé drinking (mostly just me on that last one).

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Cheers, turds!

I’ll be taking a week off from blogging, so share all your pent up emotions in the comments section.

 

 

3 thoughts on “Where’s The Painting?”

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