Thank goodness for back doors

Yesterday, I took Roman and Blaise to the Museum of Natural History. We probably go about twice a month.

I like to think that if I surround them by academics, they will take something away, even at this age. It really seems to be working. Roman loves our museum trips. And yesterday, Blaise did lick fewer display windows and didn't climb into any exhibits.

We went yesterday because currently, there is this amazing exhibit about frogs. And nothing captures little boys attention like frogs.

We had a great time, talking about what they ate, being grossed out by really big or really slimy ones. Fabulous.

A little fellow just like this one hopped up to the glass
and spent as much time looking at us as we did looking at him

My personal favorite: Strawberry poison dart frog
Seriously, it carries its tadpole babies around on its back

Afterwards, we proceeded, like always, to tour the rest of the museum. My boys probably know this place backwards and forwards. I'm sure even Blaise could give a pretty good tour.

By the time we reached the paleontology hall, it was nearing 5:30, closing time. There were still a couple other families milling around.

And by that time, both Roman and Blaise were pretty obviously in need of a bathroom break. So we took the elevator downstairs to use the restroom. We went in the restroom at 5:26. (I know, because I heard my phone take a picture, so I pulled it out, turned off the camera, noticed the time, and then put it back in my purse.)

We came out of the bathroom at 5:33.

All the lights were off. As in pitch dark except for the light from some windows and the emergency exit lights.

Roman says, "Mom, I think we should go home now." Good idea.

The doors between where we were and the main lobby was shut. I went over to it. Locked. I wiggled, and knocked, and called. Nothing. Well, lets just take the elevator back upstairs and go down the main staircase into the front lobby. Nope. The elevator has been shut off as well.

At this point, Roman starts into hysterics. "We're going to be stuck in here, and no one will ever find us, and they will all wonder what happened to us, and I hate this, and I want to go home!!!" (He did say all these things, although between the tears and near shrieks of terror, it was a little hard to understand.)

I, rather firmly, told him to calm down, we would be fine. I just followed the signs for emergency exit (because being locked in a buiding afterhours does count as an emergency in my book), down two flights of formadehyde smelling staircases that eventually deposited me and my hysterical boys behind the museum. Outside.

I guess when they say 5:30, they mean 5:30.