My poor son…  As a special thing to celebrate his soon to be sixteenth year, he and I have traveled to New York City.  Today, our first full day here, I am dragging him through the Met.  I am an art history geek.  I entered one of the galleries, saw a portrait by Rembrandt in the distance, scurried toward it, and almost had a tear it was so beautifully made.  Then I embarrassed my son with my squeals of delight over seeing my first Vermeer (they have several).  Each gallery we have gone through I have become increasingly enthusiastic.  It is a good thing he is with me or I probably would have forgotten to eat.  The plan is to find the Degas dancer sculptures after lunch, but this place is huge who knows what I will get distracted with along the way.