It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. The sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are chirping -- a perfect time to unleash my inner child and visit the Children's Museum of Pittsburgh, celebrating its 25th birthday this year.

I'm not the only one doing the unleashing. There are hundreds of others, floating model boats, zooming down the wooden slide, sloshing paint on paper, laughing as their shadows were "caught" by strobe lights. And then there are the actual kids who, every so often, plead to get in on the action ... "Daddy, can I try?"

Child's play? Certainly. But what's so wondrous about the Children's Museum is that it taps into the child in all of us, the young and the young-at-heart. Interaction has never been so innovative.

The studio is my first stop. Here, kids can draw and weave and paint and sculpt, even make paper, all under the guidance of friendly staffers whose T-shirts scream PLAY, CREATE, GROW, LEARN, DISCOVER.

This is a museum where play and pretend, din and discovery, reign supreme, a place where time doesn't matter, and the only thing to make is believe. (I make believe I am 200 pounds lighter and 3 feet shorter so I can visit the Gravity Room, where life is tilted at a 25-degree angle. Maybe next time?)

Some of the displays are functioning works of art; one favorite is Text Rain, an interactive video installation with which I use my body to "catch" virtual letters raining down on me. I stand there a while to nab a few zzzzs but run out of interest before it is time to buy a vowel.

I steer myself to the garage. It's a workshop that encourages tinkering -- the STOP and SLOW signs might as well as read FASTER! LOUDER! Here is where young mechanics can learn all about transmissions and differentials, how batteries and lights work. They can sit at tables and learn the (wo)manly art of screwdriving and sharp tools and clamps. They can climb into a real black Mini Cooper and imagine they are on the road to paradise. Gas? Here it's $00.00 a gallon ... now, that's some imagination!

The third-floor "water park" is all about rapids and whirlpools, locks and dams, but frankly the 53-foot "water table" is a great excuse for kids to splash around and act silly and not worry that a bar of soap is lurking nearby. Don't be concerned about the new outfits Little Leroy and Wee Winnie are wearing; raincoats and boots are provided because the museum promises, "you will get wet." (And dig the bench made from a real surfboard!)

I save the best for last. I drop by Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. Here, all the characters I missed watching on the small screen live in a manufactured playground of memories. Open a door and try on a sweater. (One size does not fit all.) Open others and learn the alphabet. (Behind "F" is funny fish; behind "R" is rabbit, rocks.) There's a clever display on which you can watch 11 different snippets from Fred's long-running TV show. The earliest is from 1970, the last from 1995; it's a bit unnerving watching Fred age before your eyes. The clips range from Mr. Rogers watching cast members of Stomp make music to a somber Fred recalling his dog's death and his own tearful reaction to the loss.

Talk of death and dying to those just starting to live? This was the genius of Mr. R. He never talked down to his audience, never condescended, and he spoke in truthful, if carefully couched, terms, always making everyone feel, well, like a good neighbor. No wonder Gloria Steinem once said that Rogers was "the only human being on TV to whom you would entrust the future of the world."

As I leave the building, I am reminded the museum was once a post office. It has my seal of approval.