This past weekend, we took a jaunt down to London town. The Critter is studying the works of Henri Rousseau in school this term, and my Bride had the bright idea that instead of just reading about or looking at reproductions of his works, we could take advantage that we live within shouting distance of some of the best museums on the planet, and try and go see the originals. (Rousseau is the latest artist that the Critter has studied. The Queen's School for Girls believes in starting them early on their art appreciation. I had to look up both Rousseau and their first artist: Wassily Kandinsky, who, it turns out, is a Russian abstract artist, famous for drawing circles, among other things. Of course, I think that Conan cover illustrations constitutes fine art, so what do I know?) Anyway, the whole trek down to London was a fine way to spend a weekend, and we had the Critter totally excited about going to see a museum. Which is a Good Thing™. We got there fairly early on, encountering very little traffic (it's a three and a half hour drive on a good day), and parked our car at the hotel. We cabbed it over to the National Gallery and went inside to start hunting for surreal jungle paintings. The Critter was totally into it. The place is huge, and built like a bit of a labyrinth, with a lot of individual rooms which can lead you around in circles of 16th century Dutch masterpieces until you feel like you've seen every pasty-white version of Moses ever contemplated (who grew up in a Middle Eastern family under the Egyptian sun, even if every painting of him or other Biblical figures look like they'd have needed SPF 300 or risk crisping under a full moon, let alone the desert sun). After about 30 minutes of fruitless search, I asked one of the docents wear we could find the Rousseau works. The Critter looked at her with all her hopeful not-quite-five-year-old excitement barely contained. She had been clutching her Getting to Know Henri Rousseau primer the entire morning, waiting to see the real thing. "Oh, that one," said docent-lady. "That's closed." My bride and I exchanged a quick look of disbelief. "Closed?? Seriously??" "Yes. But they'll be re-hanging the paintings and that portion of the gallery will be open in two weeks, if you would like to come back." I thought quick. How to salvage this trip from being a complete waste of time. "Hmm. What about Van Gogh? She knows Van Gogh, too." "Unfortunately, that's also closed." "Monet?" "Closed" "Manet?" "Closed" Awesome. The Critter's gave me a look to say 'you dragged me on a long car trip and a lot of walking around looking at strange pale people looking constipated, for what exactly?' Yeah, well. We had the same conversation with Ireland We quickly ran to the gift shop and found a refrigerator magnet with a Rousseau jungle print on it. This seemed to pacify the Critter's disappointment. But I'm pretty sure we're not getting her back into a museum anytime soon. In good news, we did eat lunch at the Texas Embassy cantina, just down the street from the National Gallery. In addition to the decent Tex Mex served (which seemed tremendously better than it probably was in actuality, given the absolute lack of anything resembling Mexican food served elsewhere in England), they had honest-to-goodness iced tea on the menu. We drank about five gallons between the three of us.

This past week, the Critter's Godmother has been visiting from California. As always, this has been a wonderful visit. (A couple of years ago, she went to Sicily with us). Last week, she and my Bride took themselves off to Venice for a girls' holiday where they could enjoy the scenery and exchange tales of the people they knew when they were in college together, and I stayed home with the Critter. I figured I travel enough with my work that my Bride could use the break, especially with Squirmy well on the way. A week without my Bride around gave me a whole new respect for single parents, as I was struggling to find time to get my work done around the obligatory trips to drop off (no earlier than 8:30am), pick up (no later than 3:30pm), and act as a taxi service to various extra-curricular activities. Like having to actually be present for violin class at 9:40am one day. Yeah. Never mind that I've actually got a meeting to go to, or something. Excuse me while I go listen to Variations on Twinkle Twinkle. But the Critter, I must say, was an absolute angel during the whole week, making the adventure in single parenting as easy as could possibly be. Other than demanding we make popcorn on a nightly basis, she pretty much went along with all of my suggestions, although she tossed me aside like so much rubbish the moment she saw my Bride's car coming down the driveway. Yesterday, I returned to normality, heading off to work in the morning hours, and returning at a suitably early evening hour, as normal. When we sat down to a great Chinese dinner, my Bride and the Godmother told me that the Critter had been sorting out how we all knew each other today. Critter: Mom, you used to live with Godmother My Bride: That's right. We lived together when we were in school. Critter: And then you met Daddy. That's right. Critter: And then you dumped Godmother, and married Daddy. I know the Critter is fond of telling her classmates nearly everything. I'm sure this one will make good eyebrow raising fodder for the mums at the Queen's School for Girls. 'Don't worry,' I told my Bride, as I struggled not to laugh through my salt & pepper tofu, 'we'll just tell them it was your experimental university stage.'

My Bride: I love you Ella. Critter: Why do you love me? Is it because I'm pretty? B: That's only a small part of why I love you. I love you because you're you. I'll always love you no matter what you do, who you choose to be, what you say – no matter what. Forever and ever. C: But why? B: Because you're my little girl and I love you for who you are. C: Even when I'm big? B: Yep. C: Even if I'm naughty? B: Even then. C: How about if I'm good, will you still love me? B: Yep, even if you have big teeth like a crocodile, I;ll still love you. C: Even if I'm tall? B: Always. C: Even if I make a mess? B: Even if you make a mess. C: How 'bout if I'm stinky? B: Even if you're stinky, I'll love you. C: Even if I'm a boy? B: Even if you're a boy. C: Even when I'm big? B: Yep. C: Even when I talk loud? B: Always. C: How 'bout when I don't talk? B: Yep, I'll still love you C: Even if I'm a dinosaur? B: Even if you're a dinosaur. C: Even if I'm a tyrannosaurus? But they're the meanest and scariest, even then? B: Even then. Long silent pause (apparently tyrannosaurus is the worst thing she can think of. Worse even than if she was a boy) C: Hmmmm... Another long pause... C: You sound tired mommy. You should sleep now also. B: OK. Good night, dinosaur.