The Museum Volunteer

I never expected my five-year-old to become an impromptu museum docent. But life has a way of surprising you, especially when all you wanted was a clean shirt and a peaceful day off with your child.

There we were in the Science Museum gift shop, looking for a replacement for my son’s shirt. Which had become a canvas sporting a large area of rapidly spoiling chocolate milk. A small khaki button-up shirt caught my eye — it had the logo for the museum but was much cheaper than the cartoony tees that were also offered. Perfect.

Five minutes later, freshly changed and brimming with confidence, my son was holding court by the butterfly display. I stood back, just making sure he didn’t go too far and begin annoying others.

“Monarchs are picky eaters,” he declared, chest puffed out. “They only want milkweed. It’s like how I would prefer cake over vegetables.”

An elderly couple listened, captivated. The woman looked at her partner puzzled. “Does he work here?” she asked her companion.

“He can’t work here, he’s just a little kid,” her companion said. “He must be a volunteer.”

That’s when it clicked — the khaki shirt, shorts, and his favorite hiking boots. We had inadvertently cobbled together a pint-sized doppelganger uniform of the museum staff.