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From the time our four children were babies, The Children's Museum of Indianapolis has been a place where the kids could relax, stretch, touch, and learn, and where we could be reminded of what a good parent is supposed to do: make time, pay attention, and cherish the small moments. Our family has enjoyed countless of those at the Children's Museum over the past 8 years. Since we live only 10 minutes away, we are lucky to be able to visit at least once a month.
How can we choose just one to recount here? Our kids will never forget the heart pounding chug and whistle of the Reuben Wells, the graceful, calming sea of glass in the Chihuly exhibit, their favorite carousel horses and the day they were finally old enough to ride a "jumper," and of course the hours and hours splashing, imagining, and sometimes even learning to share in "Playscape."
But one special memory I will always hold dear was made in the Norman Rockwell exhibit several years ago. We were strolling through it with my mother, who was born in 1935 and had known a Rockwellian childhood herself back in Niagara Falls, NY. It was a final stop for our day, and I thought my young ones would just race through the exhibit, the art a blur of color. But the Children's Museum is a place for surprises, and that day I was inspired by their curiosity and capacity for awe. Surrounded by the paintings, which were by turns tender, poignant, and humorous, my mother's memories of life during the Depression, World War II, and into the 1950's began to tumble out in anecdotes and stories. My oldest son was full of questions and wonder that life could have ever been so different and at the same time, so much the same. The connection across the generations was a beautiful thing, a gift.
Thank you to the museum and those who make it such a special, thoughtful, joyous place; it has been a blessing to our city, to our children, and to my kids and their Nana.
Name: Lizabeth Bradshaw, member for 8 years
How can we choose just one to recount here? Our kids will never forget the heart pounding chug and whistle of the Reuben Wells, the graceful, calming sea of glass in the Chihuly exhibit, their favorite carousel horses and the day they were finally old enough to ride a "jumper," and of course the hours and hours splashing, imagining, and sometimes even learning to share in "Playscape."
But one special memory I will always hold dear was made in the Norman Rockwell exhibit several years ago. We were strolling through it with my mother, who was born in 1935 and had known a Rockwellian childhood herself back in Niagara Falls, NY. It was a final stop for our day, and I thought my young ones would just race through the exhibit, the art a blur of color. But the Children's Museum is a place for surprises, and that day I was inspired by their curiosity and capacity for awe. Surrounded by the paintings, which were by turns tender, poignant, and humorous, my mother's memories of life during the Depression, World War II, and into the 1950's began to tumble out in anecdotes and stories. My oldest son was full of questions and wonder that life could have ever been so different and at the same time, so much the same. The connection across the generations was a beautiful thing, a gift.
Thank you to the museum and those who make it such a special, thoughtful, joyous place; it has been a blessing to our city, to our children, and to my kids and their Nana.
Name: Lizabeth Bradshaw, member for 8 years
