This was part of our spring break trip—if you want to see how we planned the full itinerary and what the rest of the trip looked like, you can read it here: our 4-day St. Louis trip with a 5-year-old.
We had saved a full day for the City Museum.
I’m really glad we did.
Even before the trip, just looking at pictures made me excited about this place. I told my daughter it was a “playground museum,” but once we got there, it felt like something completely different.
It’s hard to describe.
It looks like an old industrial building, but once you’re inside, it feels like you’re exploring something you never experienced—climbing through spaces, crawling through tunnels, constantly going up and down without really knowing where you are.
We had a plan at first.
Start from the top and work our way down.
That didn’t last long.
The rooftop was still cold, so we started from the 4th floor. But very quickly, we realized that it doesn’t really matter where you start.
You lose track of floors almost immediately.
There are tunnels everywhere, and many of them connect across levels. You go up, then down, then sideways, and suddenly you have no idea where you are anymore.
My daughter saw the cave area and immediately crawled in.
And we followed.
This was probably where I had the most fun.
There are some wider walking spaces, but she was only interested in the small tunnels. So that’s what we did—crawling, squeezing, turning, figuring out how to get through.
Some parts were tighter than I expected.
There were places where I couldn’t even crawl on my knees. I had to lie flat and move forward slowly. At times, my shoulders felt stuck, and I had to rotate my body to get through. A few spots were just wide enough for my hips.
At one point, I thought to myself—
I’ve seen news about people getting stuck in playground tunnels.
And I suddenly understood how that could happen.
There was one section I still remember very clearly.
You first crawl uphill on rollers, completely flat because there isn’t enough space for your knees. Then right after that, it turns into a downhill concrete slope.
My daughter went up head-first, flipped at the top, and came down feet-first.
I couldn’t do that.
I tried going up feet-first at first, but it was too hard.
So I went up head-first, then at the top, I had to bend in a very small space and go down head-first. My husband was behind me, pushing my feet to help me move.
Halfway down, when I finally had a little more space, I bent my body as much as I could to bring my feet forward and get down properly.
At the end of the day, I was just glad I didn’t get stuck.
Looking back, I’m really happy that I followed my daughter everywhere.
We didn’t just watch her play—we played with her.
We crawled, climbed, explored together.
I did notice that a lot of kids go into these tunnels on their own. That is why they ask parents to write phone numbers on their kid’s wristband. Some parents join them, but many stay outside, which makes sense. Some of these spaces are tight, and not everyone enjoys that kind of movement.
For us, though, that was the fun part.
After the caves, we eventually made our way outside to the balcony area—MonstroCity.
It felt completely different.
Inside the caves, everything is hidden. You don’t know where you are, and you just keep crawling and turning until you end up somewhere else.
Outside, everything opens up because tunnels are made from wires and bars.
You can see the whole structure. You can see where you’re going. And you get to decide which path to take.
I really enjoyed the tunnels leading into the airplanes.
You climb through wire tunnels, higher and higher, and then suddenly you’re inside an airplane, suspended in the air.
From there, you can walk out onto the wings.
Everything is fully caged, so it’s safe.
But it still feels strange.
I know I’m not going to fall, but at the same time, if that cage wasn’t there, I definitely wouldn’t have the courage to walk out onto an airplane wing in the middle of the air.
Our minds work in interesting ways.
My husband doesn’t like heights.
He said what bothers him most is the feeling that something could fall.
I noticed some people would start climbing, pause, and then turn back.
My daughter, of course, had no hesitation.
She climbed right into the airplane and stayed there for a while, happily “driving.”
At some point, we also went up to the rooftop.
It’s an extra ticket, about $8 per person.
If you’re short on time, I don’t think it’s a must.
The rooftop feels more like a break.
You’re up high, around the 11th floor, looking out over the city. There’s a tall climbing structure, a big slide, and a surprisingly fast Ferris wheel.
It’s nice—but compared to the balcony area, it feels calmer, less intense.
By the middle of the day, we could feel it.
My daughter started to slow down.
She lay under a bridge for a while, then wandered into a quieter area and played with Legos.
I even suggested going back to the car for a nap.
She refused.
After a little rest, she was back.
And we went right back into exploring.
We didn’t stop for a full meal the entire day.
Every couple of hours, we went back to our locker, drank some water, and she had some Goldfish crackers.
I saw some parents carrying water bottles around, but after crawling and climbing for a while, I was glad we didn’t carry anything.
You’re constantly moving, squeezing, climbing—having your hands free makes a big difference.
There are also areas that look more like a traditional museum—some aquarium sections, some science exhibits.
We walked past most of them.
There was just too much else to explore.
Looking back, I think what made this place special for us wasn’t just what it had—but how we experienced it.
We followed her.
Wherever she wanted to go, we went.
If she wanted to crawl into a small tunnel, we followed. If she wanted to stay in one area, we stayed.
And that’s why it didn’t feel like a museum.
It felt like an adventure.
By the end of the day, we were all tired.
The kind of tired that you only get from doing something physical all day.
When we got home the next day, I could still feel it.
My knees hurt from all the crawling. My hands felt tight.
We stayed until closing.
And even then, it was hard to leave.
People were slowly being called out, and we were still not quite ready to go.
If you ask me whether it’s worth it—
I would say yes, without hesitation.
But not in the way you might expect.
It’s not about seeing everything.
It’s about exploring, getting lost, figuring things out as you go.
And if you’re willing to follow your child into those spaces—even the small, tight, uncomfortable ones—
It becomes just as much fun for you as it is for them.
🌿 What I would do differently next time
I didn’t think much about what to wear, but after all the crawling, I realized it matters more than I expected.
Something smoother than sweatpants would have helped, especially in tighter spaces where the fabric tends to catch.
By the end of the day, my knees were sore, even with knee pads. So make sure you bring knee pads or you can buy a pair from their store.
We only had one headlamp, and one person needs to lead the way. Some areas get quite dark, so having at least one light really helped.
At one point, my husband’s phone fell out while we were crawling.
You’re constantly moving in all directions, so having secure pockets makes a difference.
And maybe gloves.
Not necessary, but after a full day of climbing and crawling, my hands definitely felt it.
We balanced this full day indoors with a nature day the day before—completely different pace, but just as memorable. Our day at Lone Elk, Elephant Rocks, and Johnson’s Shut-Ins.