It’s the last week to see the Picasso sculptures at the MoMA, so obviously we had to skip school for it. The lady checking tickets gave each of my kids a tiny sketchbook and golf pencil on the way in. My daughter immediately sat on the floor in front of a large wooden sculpture and started drawing, as there is nothing she loves more than a “project.” After about ten minutes, a guard with one of those mouth breathing party pooper faces came over and said, “No sketching on the floor, sorry.” I asked, “Why did they give her a sketchbook then?” He got very red and flustered. “Well…can she sketch standing up? This is really a rule! I’ll show you.” I just stared at him while my oblivious daughter worked happily. He frantically flipped through some sort of brochure he had pulled out of his pocket. Did he have a rule book in there? Weird. I inched away from him slowly. She sketched for another half hour. I guess he never found what he was looking for. It was a great day.