Umbrellas and Amelia Earhart...the Mysterious workings of kids' brains

Its been raining here in Virginia for eons. 5-7 inches in the last three days. Any thoughts of getting some gardening done have slowly shifted to the logistics of building an ark. *sigh* Today, I finally gave in and sent my son to school with an umbrella. (He has the family sword fixation--previous attempts to allow him to take an umbrella anywhere have failed before reaching the car, as he immediately turned the umbrella into a weapon.)

Who knew proper umbrella usage wasn't instinctive? *sigh* I showed him how to push it all the way open so it wasn't folded around his head like a mushroom cap and the button to push to put it down, but it never occurred to me that he'd try to get in the car with it still open. Or try to open it in the car so "it would be ready" when he wanted to get out. I did "remind" him there would be NO umbrella-opening on the school bus, which I don't think was as unnecessary as I would have hoped.

Meanwhile, I discovered his sister's umbrella droops down on one side like a bent pie tin. I asked her what happened, and she cheerfully responded, "I have no idea. Its just like this now. That's okay." I checked, and two or three of the spokes are broken. This apparently happened magically at night with no human intervention.

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With the new movie, Night at the Museum: Battle for the Smithsonian coming out, we re-learn the dangers of allowing pop culture to teach history as my daughter asks, "So, mommy--did Amelia Earhart really fly the Wright Flyer?" Since daddy works at the Wright Brothers National Monument at Kitty Hawk, this is the type of question that makes the blood run cold. I explained that she did NOT actually fly in the Wright Flyer, though she had known Wilber Wright. Next question: "Who was she, anyway?" I explained that she was one of the first women pilots, and she had disappeared back before World War II on a flight around the world and had never been heard from again. My daughter looked thoughtful. "You know what I think? I think she's probably dead." Considering Earhart would be 112 if she did turn up unexpectedly at this point, I agreed with my daughter's theory.