Ancestry DNA tells me that I am 100% of French descent. This matches everything I know about my family history. I have vivid memories of being home with the chicken pox in the fourth grade, trying to teach myself French from the books in our home (my father spoke French before English, and my mother went to school half the day in English and half in French). I eventually became fluent in French and spent one glorious year living in French Alps. I am not French, but France is a part of me.
For most of their lives, my children happily visited our local air and space and natural history museums. However, any suggestion that we go to an art museum would be met with a chorus of “That’s boring.”
Fast forward several years, and my boys enthusiastically spend hours exploring art museums. On a recent trip, they devoured the Musée D’Orsay, the Louvre, and the Rodin Museum in Paris, and I had to drag them out of the British Museum in London. So, how did we get from point A (total rejection) to point B (complaining when they have to LEAVE)? Here is my magic formula: