The651.com

Who knew that a floppy eared cartoon dog could cause so much mayhem?  Minutes after the Minnesota Children’s Museum opened, the wonderful “Clifford the Big Red Dog” exhibit was overrun with amped up kids and their parents.  Families swirled around every candy colored display, enjoying the lovable antics of Clifford and his best friends T-Bone (the bulldog) and Cleo (the poodle).  That other dog Mack was there as well, but he’s a snot if you ask me.  As the morning worn on, the feel-good vibes of Birdwell Island slowly disappeared as bus loads of children descended into the exhibit room.  Although the exhibit itself was phenomenal, I visited the museum on a Saturday.  This is to say, it was berserk.  The exhibit felt a little like being inside the  Thunderdome.  My son and I stood next to Clifford’s huge dog bowl and patiently waited our turn to fill it with oversized foam dog bones: We were quickly overrun.  I knew it was time to exit the Clifford room when my son sheepishly asked, “Why is that boy wrestling T-Bone?”  I looked over and watched a young boy climb onto the display table, straddle the face of a cuddly T-Bone statue, and enthusiastically ram his finger in the figure’s eye socket.

Murphy and I walked out of the Clifford room and ran the gauntlet down the packed hallway.  We dodged several gaggles of children and found our way to the imaginary city exhibits.  Which remarkably mirrored the real world:  the pretend grocery store had tons of food products, but nothing was priced and the cashier (albeit an eight year old in pigtails) seemed blatantly annoyed with me; the fake MTC bus smelled just like the real thing with its mix of ripe aromas (courtesy of adolescent b.o. and some stinky diapers); four boys in hard hats stood back and watched one solo boy labor and load foam cubes into a box and it resembled a real city crew; and the children hysterically singing in front of the blue screen in the music room were just as insane as the ridiculous behavior seen on the opening weeks of American Idol.
Through all the chaos, we found solace in the roof top garden.  Once outside, we found an oasis of plants, sand, and sticks.  A lot of sticks.  There was an entire tower made of wood that Murphy climbed through like a ring-tailed lemur.  He climbed and climbed and quickly made friends with a cluster of kids that were stuck in the middle of the tower.  He was completely spent when he wiggled back out ten minutes later.  In all the hectic fun that summer can bring, sometimes it’s nice to grab a little slice of shade.  Inside the art room in the corner of the roof top, we drowned out the chaos.  We let our sun burns heal and the frantic rush in our minds melt away.  We sat there, doodled with some water colors, and enjoyed the only quiet place in the whole Thunderdome… I mean Minnesota Children’s Museum.