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The Write Mommy For The Job by Jennifer Brown Just wild about the zoo Any mother of boys will tell you that during the first 10 years of a boy’s life the world is one big hairy, barking, roaring, snarling, crawling, swimming animal kingdom. When the weather turns warm, the zoo is The Place To Be for the early childhood set. “Can we go to the zoo today, Mommy? Can we? Can we go? Can we? Canwecanwecanwe…?” But going to the zoo isn’t like going to the mall. There’s a certain amount of preparation involved. There are sandwiches to pack, water bottles to fill, sunscreen to slather on, and a “little red” wagon that is neither little nor red but more like a “humongous back-breaking plastic torture device with a mind of its own” to wedge into the back of the van. I’ve slipped in a puddle of sunscreen, slammed my finger in the van door, and sat on the sandwiches, giving me a peanut butter and jelly mural on the back of my jeans. Which means I will soon be the grand marshal in a bee parade and there’s a slight possibility I could come away from the zoo the sweet-toothed male gorilla’s bride, but I try not to think about that. We’re on our way to animal-lover Mecca, and that’s the important thing. But something happens to my little safari adventurers once we get there. Even though they’ve only taken a total of seven steps since they woke up that morning, they’re “too tired to walk” as soon as their feet hit the parking lot. Not only are they tired, but they’re hungry. They’re hot. They’re bored. They’re thirsty. Their eyes are watering from the sun. They’re nauseous from the “animal smell.” Their necks feel sticky. Their shorts are too tight. Their feet are sweating. They’re the human equivalent of child-proof caps. “Aaah! A goose! Run, Mommy, run! It’s catching up to us!” “For heaven’s sake, it’s just a goose. Throw it some popcorn and it’ll go away.” (Note to reader: Trust me on this one. If you ever want a goose to go away and stop your kids from screaming in terror, the last thing on earth you want to throw it is popcorn. Perhaps, as an alternative, you might throw yourself to it as a human sacrifice, putting yourself out of your zoo misery. Just an idea.) “Aaah! It liked the popcorn! It’s following us faster now, Mommy! Why aren’t you running?” “I…am…running…but this wagon…is bigger than…The Rolling Stones’…tour bus…Is that…Mick Jagger…sitting behind you?…Tell him…to get out…and push…” The boys are also afraid of construction zones, animal-like sounds, and any exhibit which contains an animal that actually moves, especially the interactive lorikeet exhibit where zoo patrons can safely get up close and personal with the birds at feeding time. But at this point, by gum, I’m determined that they’re going to man up and enjoy the zoo if I have to drag them in there kicking and screaming. So, OK, I drag them in there kicking and screaming and, of course, within 13 seconds one of them has become the one out of 472,331 zoo guests who gets bitten. The ensuing blood-curdling screaming is clearly the mark that it’s time to go home. Frazzled, my hair flying in all directions, the palms of my hands sunburned, my ears bruised and my eyes bloodshot, I pile into the van and valiantly try to remain optimistic. “Wasn’t that fun, boys?” I ask. “What was your favorite part?” “I like the part where the bird bit Randy,” one says. This incites a fresh round of screaming. “What about you, Randy?” I ask, straining to be heard over the din in the backseat. He thinks about it for a long time. “I liked the sandwiches,” he says.
Jennifer Brown is a freelance writer in Liberty, Missouri. The two-time winner of the Erma Bombeck global humor award (2005 & 2006), Jennifer's humor column appears in The Kansas City Star. Contact Jennifer and check out her work at www.jennifunny.com.
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