March Break ended with neither a bang nor a whimper, but more of a slick-click-crunch as I ate sunflower seeds and read The Dead Kids Detective Agency. Today was my first day back, and it was amazing how quickly the memory of leisurely oatmeal mornings and hectic edu-tainment afternoons was replaced by the singular demands of teaching. Or, at least, supervising, as most of my students didn’t work so much as yawn.
In an interesting example of timing, an article I wrote a few weeks ago about how teaching has ruined me as a mother is now up, called “Babies, don’t let your mamas grow up to be teachers“. I do not guarantee laughs, but rather knowing nods and perhaps a quiet smile as if to yourself. Because I suck.
I did not, however, suck on Thursday, even though I took the kids to a museum. This is because I took them to see ULTIMATE DINOSAURS! a shouty show put on by the ROM this spring. They promised touchscreens! and interaction! and a lot of other shit I don’t particularly care about, because it’s dinosaurs for heaven’s sake and I’ve been to Drumheller. But I had a conversation with Maeve about it before the break, and she did a pretty good selling job, so I bought tickets.
(In a moment of regrettable insanity, I also bought tickets for my parents, thinking they’d like to do an outing with the kids and forgetting that they don’t enjoy themselves on these things. This trip was slightly better than the last trip, in that they actually sat with us while we ate before taking off to the next thing, but that was the only improvement. Mason thinks I need an app to remind me not to put myself in the middle of their bickering again, but I think I need a Memento-style tattoo.)
It was jammed with people, of course, and the situation was made worse by the fact that everyone was posing with bones so you couldn’t walk a foot without blundering into someone’s poorly-lit precious moment with a femur. But I really really got into the smaller dinos, like the snub-nosed crocodile thing that ate plants, and the feathered one suspended from the ceiling. Mason liked the ones with big sails on their back because they were the most dedicated to fashion at all costs. And Sage liked the document camera, and flipping through touch screens without reading the contents. (To be fair, he doesn’t quite read yet.)
I wish I had been able to do it with Blake, but he was way ahead of us with my parents by the time we arrived, and my chance to talk about little chicken-sized dinos was over. At least I got to see my favourite hall of birds, and I got to look at the massive Chinese mural while Maggie fell asleep on the breast.