A visit from Uncle Democrat and his Kiss-Me-Kate brought us to the entrance of the Philly Museum of Art. I greet these opportunities with cautious interest, never knowing for sure how our preschooler is going to take to certain types of experiences. He’s usually well-behaved in public. And he’s endlessly interested in everything, so we had reason to hope that he’d go along with the plan. At least, we figured, we always have the arms and armor exhibit. Knights! He loves anything to do with knights.

So we entered the hall of European art since 1850. Interested to take a gauge of things, I lifted him to see Van Gogh’s “Rain.”

Dad: What do you see here?
Lad: It’s raining. On a field.

Check. Then to a room with several Renoir’s, where we identified “Woman with a Guitar” as a lady with a guitar. This is so easy!

From there, I asked him to tell me which pictures he wanted to look at, and I’d lift him to see them better. For sure, the child has remarkable taste. He immediately led me to Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers,” then Monet’s “Japanese Footbridge…,” before Renoir’s “Two Girls.”

Then we played “Is this more like___?” He said that “Sunflowers” was like “Rain.” Now he knows that they’re both by Vincent “Van Go.”

“Two Girls” was like “Woman with a Guitar.” Both Renoirs. Hot diggitty dog. I told him that I knew some art history professors who’d like to meet him.

And so we happily trapsed on through the contemporary section, where we observed that the fellow’s head wasn’t on right in the Chagall portrait. And Duchamp used the coffee grinder image a couple times. And Andy Warhol used glittery paint on one of his portraits. But Miro’s “Dog Barking at the Moon” looks more like a cow.

I was struck by the number of times that he had no problem dealing with rather abstracted forms in painting or sculpture and finding meaning in them. Once he said, “That’s somebody’s legs, but their head is cut off.” It was smooth stump in the form of an inverted “Y.” Made sense. I took a peek at the label on the wall. Hmm… “Torso.”

There is a kind of genius in children.

And, yes. We did see the arms and armor. And boy was that a hit! When I explained how a crossbow worked, he got a little bloodthirsty.

As for the museum, everybody knows that the Philadelphia Museum is world-class. But taking a child for the first time opened my eyes to the fact that it’s not exactly user-friendly. Be ye warned: they don’t like ruining the aesthetics of the place with useful signage. It’s darn near impossible to find the little boy’s room on the top floor without a map. So, take a map when you enter. Especially if you’re a boy. Seriously.

Also, I got downright tired of being accosted by security. While always courteous, they seemed convinced that the well-behaved, observant youngster holding our hands was going to slobber on a masterpiece:

“Sir, please do not let your child point near the paintings.” (Even with his arm fully extended, it would have required a serious lunge.)

“Sir, please do not carry your child. If you trip, you will damage the art.” (He walked the whole time, but how, pray tell, shall he see the pictures when they’re hung well over his head? “Ok, sir, you may lift him, but please don’t carry him.” “Right. Like I was doing.”)

And on and on. It seems to me that if you really fear children this much, maybe you should just give every mom or dad a lecture on the way in. It would sure save you the trouble of having to teach us your rules in an ad hoc manner.