Friday morning, we woke up all packed and ready to head to Houston on a little road trip. Caroline and I were supposed to pick up Mimi and Bops around 8:30, so that we could hit the road and get there in plenty of time for all of our planned activities. What we didn’t plan on was a torrential rain storm.
Our driveway is located about half an acre from our back door, which isn’t a problem on normal days, but when you’re trying to load suitcases, portable DVD players, and a 3 year old into a car during a rainstorm, it proves a little more troublesome.
I made several trips back and forth to the car with umbrella in hand, while Caroline stood on the back porch and cheered me on. She kept saying “Stay calm, Mama!, Stay calm!” (oh, she knows me) and those words came in handy as I was closing the hatchback and stepped backwards into a four foot puddle of water that soaked me to my knees.
Of course, as soon as we were in the car, the rain stopped because God thinks He’s all funny like that.
We picked up Mimi and Bops, fought traffic getting on the freeway since, due to the rain, everyone was driving 10 mph, and finally, hit I-10. We were on our way.
The great thing about the drive from San Antonio to Houston is it’s just hour after hour of open fields filled with cows and an occasional Dairy Queen. Nothing makes the time fly by faster than playing “I Spy the Dairy Queen” at random 45 minute intervals.
If y’all think I’m kidding, then you haven’t made the drive. It would have a chronic insomniac begging for a blanket and a pillow.
Fortunately, Caroline is a decent traveler, especially with a DVD player. Peter Pan saved us all from pulling out our hair somewhere between the 204th field of cattle and the third Dairy Queen. In addition to the DVD watching, she also likes to play a game I call, The Grand Inquisition.
“What’s that, Mama?”
“Why did he do that, Mama?”
“Why is the sky blue?”
“Why are those flowers yellow?”
“Why do those cows stand in those fields?”
“What do those cows eat?”
“Where is the next Dairy Queen?”
“Why do we wear shoes?”
“How do birds fly?”
“What makes the car go?”
“What is the square root of 445 divided by the sum of the number of hydrogen particles in an atom?”
And then my head begins to succumb to the pressure caused by oak pollen and ALL. THE. QUESTIONS.
When we arrived in Houston, we went straight to the Museum of Natural Science. The first thing we were going to see was the Butterfly Exhibit. We had been before when Caroline was really little, but it is so incredible that we wanted to go back. It’s a tropical rainforest full of the most amazing butterflies you have ever seen.
And we thought we were excited, until we saw the lady wearing the butterfly shirt with the butterfly visor with the butterfly pins clipped to her shoelaces carrying a tote bag that read “I heart butterflies”. Obviously, she’s a fan.
Anyway, we bought our tickets and as we walked towards the entrance to the exhibit, we passed the McDonalds. That’s right, friends. There is a McDonalds in the Museum of Natural Science. Someday they can turn it into part of an exhibit entitled “PURE MARKETING GENIUS”.
Once we saw the McDonald’s, Caroline had to have a Happy Meal because she was starving and needed a miniature Madame Alexander Dorothy doll. Heaven knows we need another Happy Meal toy floating around in the backseat of my car. So, we stopped and ate our fries while enjoying the lovely ambiance that is created by being surrounded by hordes of 5th graders on a field trip.
Then, off to the butterflies.
After the butterflies, we went to see the dinosaurs. It’s amazing to me that archaeologists spend years digging up these bones and then painstakingly reassemble them. Truth be told, if I were digging in my backyard and found a bone, I’d say, “OH GROSS. A bone.” And I’d throw it out.
Which probably explains why I’m not an archaeologist or on CSI.
Caroline liked the dinosaurs, but the part of the museum that fascinated her the most was the Energy Hall, which is comprised of all kinds of different chemistry exhibits and has one whole wall that is the Periodic Table of Elements. Don’t even get me going on the Periodic Table of Elements. It was the bane of my existence in 9th grade and if I ever thought about it, would be the bane of my existence today.
I don’t care for chemistry (unless it’s on Grey’s Anatomy). To me, chemistry equals math. They’re all related with all their fancy x and y’s and abbreviations that don’t make sense. I don’t trust anything that says Q proves that R is the sum of K+D. It’s just not natural.
If you want to abbreviate sodium, why use NA? Why not just write sod.? Or potassium is K? Why not pot.?
Don’t try to get all fancy. It’s just science.
Anyway, I watched my daughter look at all these chemistry exhibits and was completely astounded. I know I gave birth to her. I was there. But science? Really?
Am I going to find myself one day attending Mathlete competitions and wearing a t-shirt that says “My daughter is a bad mathajama”?
Will she figure out by 2nd grade that Mama can’t help her with her math homework?
When we finally dragged her away from all the atoms and molecules, we went to the gift shop. And what did I spy, but these.
That’s right. Benjamin Franklin and Albert Einstein action figures.
I showed my dad and we laughed and made fun of poor, little nerds everywhere that have an Albert Einstein action figure. And then, Dad saw some nerd glasses and on the back of the package they had a quiz on how to know if you’re a nerd. I was laughing about all the questions, until we came to this one.
“Do you have a blog?”
“Do strangers read your blog?”
And I had to deal with the fact that maybe I am a nerd.
I hope it’s not too late to learn the Periodic Table of Elements or I’ll never fit in.