Maybe too good a job.
Now, I realize that the four pottery wheels that the museum has set up just past the main entry of the Hamilton building are primarily designed for the under-fifteen set to get a chance to play with clay, but I certainly wasn't the only adult who wanted to give it a go. In fact, there were at least five adults in front of me in line when my two kids and I showed up on First Free Saturday, just minutes after the doors opened at 10 a.m.
But I'm not sure I needed to have my hand literally held by the young, micro-managing pottery instructor, who not only talked to me like a child - "c'mon, make a butterfly shape with your hands" -- but essentially shaped my pot for me, barely letting me get my hands on the damn thing itself. Step off, lady, I wanted to say. I can do this.
But no such luck. And when I was done, she said, in a patronizing, sing-song voice, "So, are you ready to give someone else a chance now?"
Yes m'am. I'd like to give me a chance! Now, can I go to the bathroom, please?
