Father Knows Best?

"That's one we talk about a lot," Lopez said.

Workers had put exhibit ropes around a forklift on the floor to keep kids from climbing on it. Sure enough, Lopez said, a boy was heard asking whether it was a piece of space equipment, and his father answered that it had been to the moon.

One area where kids often have an edge on their parents is wildlife biology, thanks to endless critter shows on cable TV and a steady stream of Internet-researched animal reports for school.

"I hear kids correcting their dads all the time on the difference between insects and spiders or great apes versus monkeys," said Alan Peters, curator of the National Zoo's Invertebrate House. "As a parent, you have to keep yourself in check or you'll get yourself in trouble."

But probably no venue generates as much paternal misinformation as the museums, such as Air and Space, that specialize in machines, gadgets and technology.

"This is inherently macho stuff," said Peter Golkin, Air and Space spokesman and father of two kids younger than 9. "Hey, I work here, and I know a lot about this stuff, and even I feel pressure to come up with an answer."

Some experts say museums are to blame for setting up parents as oracles. Kathleen McLean, a former director of San Francisco's Exploratorium, said too many museums present themselves as citadels of knowledge, places that are more about transmitting facts than inspiring wonder.

"The kids are not afraid to ask questions, but the adults feel an absolute need to provide answers," said McLean, an exhibit design consultant and president of the museum Visitor Studies Association. "Rather than say, 'I don't know; let's find out,' parents feel like they have to make something up to seem smart. We really need to embrace not knowing it all."

John Adami would probably know exactly what McLean means when she laments a museum's "intimidating mantle of authority." The Denton, Tex., dad was visiting Washington's museum row with his wife and five kids last week and had been fielding questions by the minute.

"It's a humbling experience," Adami said in front of the lunar landing display shortly after making a hash of explaining the Apollo programs. "It makes you question your intelligence after a while."

He turned slightly away from the family. "I've even been making up my own words," he said.

On the other hand, there are plenty of dads who relish playing professor for a day. Golkin described a species of fact-armed enthusiast that delights in challenging the staff on its knowledge of space minutiae. Curators call it "Stump the Smithsonian," Golkin said.

Beth Wilson, a museum education specialist, remembered the father of two young kids who took over her information booth and began lecturing visitors on the physics of flight while she was on a coffee break.

"He was behind the cart, teaching," she said. "His kids had wandered off long before."

Most of the know-it-all dads do start out with a baseline of accurate data, Wilson said. They get tripped up when they try to go too deep.

"They have some working knowledge of a subject without fully grasping the details," she said. "Sometimes we say that a little PBS is a dangerous thing."

To reduce the number of mangled facts being handed down through the generations, the National Museum of American History once installed a phone in a telecommunications exhibit labeled "Ask a Curator." It rang in a staff office.

But, said Barney Finn, one of the exhibit's designers, the two most common questions that came over the line were "What's a curator?" and "Where is the bathroom?"