We made a little roadtrip to Philadelphia yesterday and it was awesome. Josh and I remarked that we would love to go back again, you know, without the children. So we could actually enjoy the history instead of running out of tours because our kids are acting like lunatics.
A passing rain storm found us ducking for cover near Independence Hall. Did you know there is a Dairy Queen conveniently located a half-block from it? Well, you do now. Do you think Ben Franklin went with the oreo blizzard or the chocolate dip cone?
We spent an hour sequestered in that DQ, waiting the storm out because we were ill-prepared for rain.

The children were oh-so-excited at that turn of events. What more can you ask for than shelter from the storm that provides both cold, sugary goodness and a clean bathroom?
When the rain subsided from torrential downpour to mere sprinkles, we argued about whether to head out. Or, rather, I stamped my foot and whined that I was sick of waiting and that we could be there all damn day and what, was Josh scared he was going to melt? We argued the whole walk down the street, under an increasingly steadier rain, as we all got wet and my soaked and slippery flip-flops threatened to put me on my ass on the cobblestones. When we finally reached the entrance, there was a tour just beginning so we hopped in to the building.
The park ranger/tour guide dude assured us the kids and their level of noise excitement for our nation’s history would be fine. When he opened his mouth to speak and instead everyone heard my 4-year-old scream, “Bwaallllaaalala,” we figured that could not be true, and Josh took them into the tiny hallway while I nursed Maeve and listened to the guide ask if we thought the efforts of the founding fathers were worth it today. He sounded anti-American, but he was from Scotland, so maybe he has some issues there.
When we stepped into the actual room where the most important documents of our country were signed, everyone crowded to the front to get a good look. Inspired by the 234 years of history surrounding them, Jack and Emmie instead chose to hold their own truths to be self-evident. They showed us that all kids are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Time-Outs.

That’s right, my kids decided to do somersaults and scream echo-ing nonsense in those hallowed halls. They were quickly escorted out by the troops representing them without taxation (their parents) as everyone in the room glanced over the shoulders at Those People. You know, the Ones Who Bring Young Children To Historical Monuments And Ruin It For Everyone.
After that awesome behavior, we headed over to see the Liberty Bell. On the way, the natives were restless, but we threatened they would not be able to see the Liberty Bell and they quieted right down. Honest to God, we threatened them with the withholding of a brass bell sighting and they calmed the hell down. Apparently, they thought it would be something magical because it was quite the game-changer.

We zipped through the entire lead-up to the bell, ignoring all the cool materials that answered every question you might have ever had about the bell, and there it was, in all it’s glory. But dude, it’s cracked. The hell? I want my money back. Oh, it was a free tour you say? Well … yeah, whatever.
Jack and Emmie were clearly disappointed by the bell. I think they were under the impression it might be like a pinata, and when you ring it, the candy rains down. But they were excited to get close to it.

Right after that was snapped, Jack grabbed the rope and looked like he was going for it. I am pretty sure I saw the security guard put his hand over his weapon, but thankfully Josh escorted the children immediately to the stroller. He tried to dole out some Cheerios to stave off any tantrums, and you would think he tried to ring the damn bell.
“SIR! SIR! You can NOT have any food in here. You will need to take that outside NOW,” the security guard boomed. People looked. Seriously dude, take it down a notch. They’re Cheerios, not malt liquor. No one’s getting crazy and trying to make a run for the bell after consuming a cereal product.
While Josh was getting yelled at, I hustled Maeve over for a picture of her own, bypassing several groups of foreign tourists and their cameras. I plopped her down and she was happy to put on a little show for the assembled groups.

Clearly, she is way cuter than George Washington ever was. Not so cute that they let her make even one army-crawling move toward the rope, but that’s cool. No harm, no foul.