The Vatican: What Could Be Worse

We're waiting in the lineup to get into the Vatican museum, and it's endless.

Every ten minutes we shuffle forward about three feet. We also repeatedly fend off local 'guides' who offer to tour us through for a 'special price'. I actually took one of those tours once before and it skips huge, important chunks of the museum so I'm not falling for that. The kids have been great so far, abut we've been in line for about forty minutes already and this is what it looks like ahead of us:


"Well, it could be worse. It could be raining," I say to Hannah. The other day at the Forum we had to keep running in the rain to hide under ruins.

"Or there could be thunder," she adds. We had thunder at the forum too.

"True," I say. And then, to keep up the downer vibe, I add "Or we could get to the front and they would say, 'Sorry, we just sold the last ticket.'"

"Nice, mom." says Hannah. She decides to keep going with the 'what could be worse' theme. "Or maybe when we finally get there, a huge building will fall and block the entrance right in front of us."

"Ooh, well played, Han. Um, okay, maybe when we get to the front they'll say 'What are you talking about? This isn't the Vatican!' I say, in a squeaky, old person English accent. "And we'll say, 'yes it is, there's the sign,' and they'll say 'what sign?', and pretend they can't see it."

"My guess is bubonic plague," Steve chips in, and we ignore him, since we are obviously taking turns. Humph. Men.

Hannah actually looks excited now. "Maybe when it's finally our turn, they'll say we look like famous art thieves, and won't let us in because they're worried we'll steal all the good art."

I feel this isn't the moment to explain that some of the art is actually painted directly on the walls and ceilings. My kids often groan openly when I try to take advantage of a teachable moment, so I let it go.

"Maybe this isn't the lineup for the Vatican at all, but for another, lesser know museum called the 'Catican', where all the art contains pictures of cats." I suggest.

"Does that exist?!" she asks excitedly.

"Probably, somewhere. But we won't be going there."

"Oh." She smiles anyway.

And the lineup moves.