That bony light

The other day Dave took James and Thomas to the Natural History Museum while I was at the dentist.

It was not a success.

James took against the dinosaur skeletons, the life-size whale suspended from the ceiling, and above all the volcanoes. Dave described this in hushed tones when I came to pick up the kids at his office. "What did you think of the museum, James?" I asked when we'd gone outside.

"I did not like it. Bones were there," James said.

"Bones are okay. They give us shape and let us stand up and run around."

"It's okay that they're there, but I don't want to look at them. I don't want to see them. I like the people who are holding the silly things."

He meant the Italian Renaissance paintings of saints holding the attributes of their martyrdom. I decided not to pursue the subject too far. At least we haven't come across Saint Agatha.

We went to the National Gallery to see the Renaissance paintings and a nice contemporary exhibit, then to the basement for pink ice cream. James was mollified.