Frame it for young eyes

Why not, in other words, trust that one or two snippets of information will actually arouse a child’s curiosity rather than shut it down?

I admit, it all comes down to how knowledge is conveyed. There’s nothing worse than being subjected to a boor who won’t stop droning on about everything he thinks he knows.

But the idea that knowledge is somehow an enemy of aesthetic experience, or of curiosity, seems to me rather sinister. I’m all for allowing kids to “have their own experiences.’’ But those experiences can be made deeper and more stimulating if kids are judiciously armed with one or two bits of knowledge. After all, the two are not mutually exclusive. And there’s nothing like knowing a thing or two to make you conscious of how much more you don’t know.

Artful execution

Rashly abandoning my own policy of keeping museums and children safely apart, I recently ventured with my wife and kids to the MFA.

The trip was the direct consequence of one of those starry-eyed moments. The night before, at bedtime, our little girl had randomly plucked from the bookshelves Jacqueline Preiss Weitzman’s “You Can’t Take a Balloon Into the Museum of Fine Arts.’’ (This is the kind of present your children get if you’re an art critic. See what they’re up against?) The book, which ties together the sites of Boston with famous pictures in the museum, is rather silly. But our young cubs were heartily enjoying it, so I found myself saying, “Would you like us to go the Museum of Fine Arts tomorrow?’’

“Yes, yes, yes!’’

The next morning, off we went.

We kept it short, we kept it sweet. We were in and out in an hour. But in that time, we saw an awful lot, from the extraordinary lutes and zithers in the musical instruments gallery to Copley’s “Watson and the Shark’’ and some mouth-wateringly yummy still lifes by Luis Meléndez. We ventured into the darkened gallery with the giant Buddhas, passed by an Indian stone sculpture of Ganesh, peered at Gerrit Dou’s stunning “Dog at Rest’’ and at Velázquez’s infant prince with a dwarf.

We tore through the building. Since I know my way around, and since I had my own ideas about things they might like, I was leading the charge. But the kids looked for as long as they liked, and they seemed eager to be led. I mostly kept my mouth shut, but if I could think of something interesting to tell them about what we were looking at, I told them.

It all went smashingly well. Indeed, it was one of those rare, unmitigated parental successes, where you both get home, plant the kids in front of the TV, and go back over the morning’s events together, smirking and vigorously patting each other on the back. I’d recommend it.

Sebastian Smee can be reached at ssmee@globe.com.