If I were under the age of eight, I would probably want to move in here. It's not so much a museum as a huge playground. There is a wall to climb; bubbles the size of basketballs to make with huge hoops; a loom just ready for a weaver to create a multicolored tapestry from the handy box filled with cotton scraps; a quiet room filled with paper, glue, and stuff for a one-of-a-kind collage.
Outside, kids can dig for earth worms, play with rats (Blossom was actually a very elegant little rat in her black and white fur, which when I was there, she was thoroughly cleaning with tiny pink feet), cuddle with guinea pigs or lop earred rabbits, play oversized musical instruments -- the list of things to
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If I were under the age of eight, I would probably want to move in here. It's not so much a museum as a huge playground. There is a wall to climb; bubbles the size of basketballs to make with huge hoops; a loom just ready for a weaver to create a multicolored tapestry from the handy box filled with cotton scraps; a quiet room filled with paper, glue, and stuff for a one-of-a-kind collage.
Outside, kids can dig for earth worms, play with rats (Blossom was actually a very elegant little rat in her black and white fur, which when I was there, she was thoroughly cleaning with tiny pink feet), cuddle with guinea pigs or lop earred rabbits, play oversized musical instruments -- the list of things to do is as large as a child's imagination.
There were as many apron-uniformed docents in the "museum" directing play and teaching the hows and whys of what the kids were doing. In the Garden Room, where I meet Blossom, birds fly freely in the trees, herbs grow in gardens, and a docent explains about the creatures who live there. An oversized xylophone was being played by a father/son duo, there’s roadrunner made entirely of junk, microphones to enhance the sound of bird singing in the trees.
What a wonderful place to be a kid, or a kid at heart.
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