This Small Life

So Paul's out helping a drunk woman whose husband has kicked her out.  He's been gone about an hour and I just heard a police car siren.  So maybe he'll be home soon.

I, on the other hand, just enjoyed a cup of ice cream with chocolate chunks and am ready to share some recent happenings.

We've got The Naked Ladies at the Art Museum, or The Bloody Pool, or The Sweaty Drive.

I know, The Naked Ladies.

We went to St. Louis last weekend for a family reunion, during which we spent a day doing touristy things like visiting their free zoo and equally free art museum.

*Tip - Even though you'll be tempted to go to the zoo when it opens at 8am to avoid the heat and holiday crowds, don't.  All we saw for 2 hours were the zookeepers cleaning out the habitats.  Bummer.

So Charlie fell asleep on our way to the art museum.  He snoozed on a lovely leather couch in the foyer while the other boys toured the museum.  To quench my boredom of sitting next to a sleeping child, I read a brochure about the museum.  It listed several famous artists and their paintings that were housed in this building.  One was Henri Matisse's work called Bathers and Turtle.  Do you see where this is going?  No?  Let's continue.

After a while, the boys return and I ask Peter if he saw the VanGogh or the Monet or the Matisse one about some bathers.  He said he had and he wanted to show me.

So Paul stayed with Charlie while Peter led me through rooms.  "Here it is, Mom."  Yep they are definitely bathers with a turtle.  A large painting of three large naked female bathers looking at a turtle.  Here...

So my nine-year-old son and I stood there to take in this early 1900s work of art.  Of naked women.  There was no shame or embarrassment, except the giggling I was hiding inside.

Then I turned around and Paul, Charlie, and Reuben had joined us and Paul pointed out another Matisse.  A sculpture.  Of a naked woman.  So our sweet little conservative family encircled the piece to gaze at its artistic wonder.  "What is it?" Reuben asked.  "A woman," I said.  "Oh."  Uh-huh.

And then I took a moment to look around the room.  All paintings of naked women.

I had sent my son on a hunt for naked women.

I could see this being a fun game when he's a teen.  I'll say, "Hey, Pete, did you see that one by So-and-So called Swaying In the Wind?"  And then he'll take me on a hunt for it and he'll get all embarrassed when it ends up being naked women.  And he'll say something like, "Ah Mom, not naked women again" and turn all red and then I'll giggle.

But for now, it's all art and we're all mature about it.


Paul's back.  The sirens weren't for him.  He said it was trippy and after much screaming, all is apparently well for the evening.

The other stories shall come henceforth another day.