We continued our whirlwind sight-seeing tour of the Northeast and spent this afternoon visiting one of Connecticut’s major tourist attractions, the Mark Twain House. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the wisest choice of spots for us to take two squirmy toddlers, what with all the breakable, valuable, historical antiques within a tiny person’s reach. But the torrential rain had limited our options, and I thought I might as well start early in inspiring a love of all things by Samuel Clemens in my girls. I guess I probably should have waited until they could at least read.
But even though we had to leave the tour of the house early, and the girls’ loud protests shattered the studious aura of the visitor’s center, and we discarded little shoes around the building like bread crumbs, I was actually very glad we made the trip. I have wanted to see the Mark Twain house ever since I did my state report on Connecticut in the fifth grade. I remember using my colored pencils to painstakingly draw a picture of the dark red eaves of the mansion, and now I’ve seen the gorgeous architecture for myself.
I can also rest assured knowing that I’ve done my due diligence in beginning the girls’ well-rounded English education. Perhaps next year we can take a trip to Prince Edward Island so the girls can appreciate my love for Anne of Green Gables. I guess I’d rather have the girls learning about the beauty of the “Lake of Shining Waters†than learning how to trick others into whitewashing a picket fence!
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