There's a full size elephant and camel near the entrance. Every time we go, Bug runs in, does a respectful Nazi salute to the elephant and then shouts at it. She then runs over to the camel and shouts at that. The next 20 minutes are spent with her running between the two shouting louder and louder at each of them. I like to think she's winding them up:
BUG (to the elephant): The camel says you're fat!
ELEPHANT (looking guilty) I have put on a few pounds. How embarrassing.
BUG (running back to the camel): The elephant called you a twat!
And so on.
When she tires of annoying the National Museum's large stuffed animals, she finds flight after flight of stairs to pound up and down.
There's lots of stairs. Up and down we go. Up and down.
Her will is strong, but her legs are small so dear old Dad pounds the stairs too.
Up and down. Up and down.
It gets so the only history I'm seeing is my life as if flashes before my eyes due to the tingling sensation down my left side. I often scoop her up and use my last energy reserves in a mad dash to the camel baiting room in the hope of a distraction.
"You again!" she shouts at the camel.
This week we ate lunch in the hall for groups. There were four of us, counting the kids. Four makes a group: The Four Tops, The Beatles, The Teletubbies. Fours. According to The National Museum of Scotland, our foursome didn't reach the prerequisites of a group. More the girls from Sex in the City than The Beatles. A stern employee told us, after we'd finished eating, that the room was only for groups of school children.
They had highchairs. I know this as Bug ate lunch in one. Now, I'm not one for judging (I am) but if Scotland's child pregancy rate is so high that there's need for highchairs in a room used by 8 year old boys in shorts then the words 'put your knob away Timmy and eat your vegetables' may be needed to be used more often. The issue of the highchairs was pointed out by my friend. Stern employee had the good grace to mumble incoherently before fucking off.
This aside we loved our day out.
Here ends a party political broadcast for the National Museum of Scotland. Other father/daughter activities are available.
Bye for now.
Xx
PS
I took this photo outside the museum on our first visit a few months back. We watched these three gents work for 10 minutes. We're not some kind of work watching perverts, we were simply early. One bloke swept the litter, one picked it up, and one held a rubbish bag. It made us laugh.
