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Two weeks ago, we took ARR to Liberty Science Center. They were at the tail end of a traveling exhibit on guitars. We'd actually been to it before--we have a membership, and it's a great place to go burn off some energy when it's too cold or wet for the park. The exhibit was split up--most of the interactives are out in the main thoroughfare and then an expansive collection of guitars are on display in a separate gallery. ARR and I hadn't bothered looking in the gallery last time--he's not that interested in famous guitars behind glass, and honestly, neither am I.
But this time, Daddy wanted to take a quick look, and ARR and I got tired of watching the older kids in the Infinity Climber. So we went looking for him. And discovered that in the back, there was a stage set up, with a keyboard, an electric drumkit, a box of random hand percussion instruments, and most importantly: four or five (horribly abused and woefully untuned) guitars (plus one ukelele).
I feel bad for any guitar aficianados come to worship at the great guitars. Because that gallery was a cacaphony of small children.
ARR fell in love. He's always liked guitars--he's obsessed with sing and sign teacher's guitar and always wants to touch it in awe. But here were guitars he was allowed to play. I tried to offer him the ukelele, which is at least vaguely the right size for his tiny little body. No interest. No, what he really wanted was to sit on the floor with a full sized guitar on his lap and play with it. Preferably while Mommy and Daddy also had guitars--he kept trying to steal guitars from other people and give them to us. We probably burned a good half an hour poking guitars.
Now, we have to play " 'tar". The corn popper is a guitar. The wheelie butterfly is a guitar. ARR himself is a guitar, to be played by Mommy or Daddy. Mommy and Daddy are also guitars. ARR and I spent probably another half an hour yesterday building guitars out of Legos and playing them (and repeatedly putting them back together after they fell apart). I'm debating whether he needs a guitar toy for his birthday. (We already got him dishes to serve all his toy food on, and there is the matter of space.)
Edited to add: There's an Elmo guitar toy. Yeah, he's getting that for his birthday.
But this time, Daddy wanted to take a quick look, and ARR and I got tired of watching the older kids in the Infinity Climber. So we went looking for him. And discovered that in the back, there was a stage set up, with a keyboard, an electric drumkit, a box of random hand percussion instruments, and most importantly: four or five (horribly abused and woefully untuned) guitars (plus one ukelele).
I feel bad for any guitar aficianados come to worship at the great guitars. Because that gallery was a cacaphony of small children.
ARR fell in love. He's always liked guitars--he's obsessed with sing and sign teacher's guitar and always wants to touch it in awe. But here were guitars he was allowed to play. I tried to offer him the ukelele, which is at least vaguely the right size for his tiny little body. No interest. No, what he really wanted was to sit on the floor with a full sized guitar on his lap and play with it. Preferably while Mommy and Daddy also had guitars--he kept trying to steal guitars from other people and give them to us. We probably burned a good half an hour poking guitars.
Now, we have to play " 'tar". The corn popper is a guitar. The wheelie butterfly is a guitar. ARR himself is a guitar, to be played by Mommy or Daddy. Mommy and Daddy are also guitars. ARR and I spent probably another half an hour yesterday building guitars out of Legos and playing them (and repeatedly putting them back together after they fell apart). I'm debating whether he needs a guitar toy for his birthday. (We already got him dishes to serve all his toy food on, and there is the matter of space.)
Edited to add: There's an Elmo guitar toy. Yeah, he's getting that for his birthday.
