I took the girls downtown to see the newly reopened American History Museum last week because I was afraid I might go one more day without showering, leaving the house or changing out of my pajamas. Hey, remember when I tried to go see the Stephen Colbert portrait in the National Portrait Gallery and we didn't get there and they took it down a couple of days later? Well, life has come full circle, it's now in the American History Museum. (Okay, I too realize that's not a circle but my ability for find another metaphor is lacking.) I wasn't even aware they'd hung it there until I was waiting in line for the bathroom and leaning up against this wall hanging when I suddenly thought, hmmm... I wonder what priceless work of art I'm leaning against? Turns out it was this:

Appropriately hung, in front of the bathrooms:

For those who don't get the joke, congratulations! You have a life and probably don't spend hours TiVoing every Jon Stewart/Stephen Colbert episode that ever aired. I'm sorry I cannot join your clan. Here's a little background from Wikipedia:
On January 16, 2008, the "3-deep" Colbert portrait was placed on display "right between the bathrooms near the 'America's Presidents' exhibit" at the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C. After first being rejected by the National Museum of American History, Colbert petitioned the Smithsonian to display his portrait, who agreed to "go along with the joke", though they stress that it is only temporary. Colbert said "I don't mean to brag, but as it contains three portraits, my portrait has more portraits than any other portrait in the National Portrait Gallery!" The portrait was then put on display at the Smithsonian until April 13. On October 16, 2008, the 3-deep portrait was officially donated to the permanent collection of the Smithsonian's American Treasures exhibit. At the end of that show, a new 5-deep portrait was unveiled, with the newest Colbert holding his newly-won Emmy with another Emmy and a Peabody by the mantle.
I met a friend downtown who brought her two kids as well so that we could have a nice low-key day with the kids. Only I had seriously misjudged how thick the crowds would be and how all of them would be clamoring to get in the American History Museum. If we'd decided to see something a little less novel and popular, say the Museum of Dentistry, we'd have probably had a grand time, but it was hard to maneuver tiny hominids who outnumbered the grown-ups two to one amidst a crowd of people who couldn't have cared less if they cut me and the stroller off from my five year old. I told one person who gave me a half-hearted apology when I shot him a dirty look, "Oh don't worry, she's five. I'm sure she'll be able to find her own way home. I just hope she has cab fare."

As we walked around downtown, my friend's four year old preferred to run thirty feet in front of us while The Dormouse insisted on lagging thirty feet behind. So I spent the day yelling at The Dormouse to "keep up" and "stay with me" and "if you don't stop lagging behind a psycho killer will get you and you'll never be heard from again and then I'll have to throw all your clothes away." Sure it sounds harsh, but even that wasn't a big enough motivator for her.

Finally, when even I was sick of hearing myself yell her name every three seconds, she stomped up next to me and sulked. And I heard this come muttering out of her mouth, half aloud/half under her breath: "I wish I didn't have a mean mother. I wish my mother was a nice mother. I love you mom, I just wish you weren't a mean mom."

Heaven help me, school starts tomorrow.