We live in Arkansas, not even three hours from the newest major American art museum, Crystal Bridges. It’s a big deal. So, of course, it’s been open for well over a year and we hadn’t been. Until yesterday. We piled in the trusty Subaru and headed Northwest.
We made a strategic error. We told Jackson he was being dropped off at his grandparents for the weekend after we left the museum. He pretty much spent the entire day saying some version of, “Are you people done having the Forced Family Fun now, so I can go to my Mamaw and Papaw’s house where they let me do anything I want?” I replied with something really maternal and loving like, “We brought you here to make your life better because we are a NICE FAMILY, DAMNIT! Now start having a good time and stop asking me when we’re leaving!” But otherwise, it went really well.
I want to go back. I want to go when I’m not being hustled along by a 6-year-old boy on his way to Donkey Island so I can really look at some of these pieces. I also want to go back with the juvenile delinquent and explore the trails all around. We could spend days out there in the woods. We’ll be back many more times, I’m sure. When something this amazing is so close, you’ve just got to see it as much as possible.