Children’s Museum New Orleans

I finally did it! I went to the Children’s Museum in New Orleans with the grandkids. It was the largest playground and educational center I’ve ever seen. All I had to do was tag along, assure the 3-year-old was OK to go and do, then sit and watch.
At first the children, their mother and I were together, studying the skeleton riding a bicycle, touching the electron ball with its contained electricity. The 18-month-old delighted in watching the sparks fly up to his fingers.
We split up after the basketball net: My grandson loved throwing a ball into the net with a big boost from the museum aide. His sister and I went to the corner, child-sized, grocery store complete with real boxes, plastic, life-sized lobsters, fruits and vegetables and empty milk and orange juice cartons. She loaded her petite grocery cart until it overflowed.
At the check-out, I told her she could punch the buttons and figure up how much everything cost. She shyly insisted I do it. Before I finished she joined me in punching out the numbers, waiting for the adding machine to give her a real receipt. Then we had to put all the boxes, jugs and plastic foods back on the shelves and into their bins.
The 19-month-old toddler and his mother quickly discovered the area designated, “For 3-years-old and under.” It was perfect for him. Slides, big foam blocks to build with a large table for large Lego blocks, a pint-sized kitchenette, chunky cardboard books, lots of riding toys and a maze of 16 cube rooms with four-feet high walls. He toddle off to investigate the slide and its tunnel. His mother told me she started to join him in his play. He turned, looked at her and said, “No!” motioning her to stay away. This was his turf. He could manage this world.
It was the large, safe play room, just right for little fellers to conquer, as long as the big kids were kept out and the grown-ups stayed back and let them.
Exhausted from grocery shopping, the granddaughter and I walked across the hall to the little restaurant with enough plastic dishes, pretend food, pots, pans and cleaning equipment for a full staff. Al I had to do was pretend to be a customer. I had a lot of waiters. They all brought me the ugly, 6-inch plastic fish. When our 3-year-old dropped a tray of plastic food and dishes, she got the just child-size bucket and mop and cleaned it all up.
We took a break for a real lunch and returned after the children’s nap and discovered an electronic height measuring device. The 3-year-old stood very still to find out she was 2 feet, 11 inches tall. Her littler brother, however, started to sit down just as the machine began measuring him. The machine scolded, “What’s the matter, you got ants in your pants? Stand still.” It took several mechanical admonitions and my holding him in place to find out he is 2 feet, 6-and-a-half inches tall.
It was a great day! Not in all my fantasies of a perfect playroom had I considered everything they had there. We have got to go back soon – at three, my granddaughter is already aging her way out of permission to play in my favorite room.