Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Year of writing 143. Zoo.

5/23/12


I know, this looks pretty awesome - let's feed a giraffe, right?  Wrong.  First off, you have to walk up a big ass hill to get to the giraffes, which is not easy when you have a stroller full of baby and a four year old that "caaaaaaan't maaaaaaaake it" up the hill.  Then you get to the giraffe feeding location, only to find that they need six bucks from you in exact change or else you can't have two pieces of lettuce, and you have to stand to the side like the nerdy kid at a high school dance.  So, I have to march back down the hill to get exact change for my 10, then back up the hill one more time.  B.S.  Whatever, Isla wants to feed the giraffe.  So, now my six dollars disappear into a fat man's fanny pack and he hands Isla the aforementioned 2 pieces of lettuce.  Then this swagged out lady named Gene (really? Gene?) instructs her on how to hold the leafy green while the giraffe sticks out like four feet of tongue and proceeds to taste her hand, fingers, forearm, and hair.  "You're gonna get a little wet,"  Gene says.  Isla just giggles and holds out another piece of lettuce for the slimy monstrosity that extends from the maw of this beast.  In 20 seconds it's over, and I'm lucky that my stupid Android camera got even one picture.  Now, I have a child with hair plastered to her forehead by giraffe spit, and she's wiping her sodden hands all over my vintage Target camo shorts.  Luckily they have hand sanitizer nearby, so I douse my child and get: "I wanna feed the giraffe again - her tongue was so tickly!"  
"How about we just go home and I'll hit you with a wet towel a bunch of times?"
"Daddy, that doesn't sound like fun."  
"You're too small to know what fun is."
"No I'm not, fun is like puzzles and reading books and playing with toys."
"Let's go home and do that then."
"Okay!"
"WIN!"




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