Jul
16
July 16, 2007
More random images from the iPhoto library:
The Horrific Proposal: a drink of root beer, but only if you try this broccoli.
NOOOOO OH GOD NO IT IS GREEN I HATE IT NOOOOOOO
The cruel bait-and-switch.
AAAHHHH NOOOOOO WHY GOD WHY
NO NO NO I WILL SCOLD YOU IN HOPES OF BENDING YOUR WILL
Sorrow ensues. Note Dog’s total lack of concern for the tragedy at hand.
And, of course, the eventual giving in. One sip only! Well, maybe two. We felt we had gotten our money’s worth, you know?
:::
And now a question for the male readers (Pete and Josh, I’m looking in your direction): JB says that getting so much as tapped in the nuts—say, by a flailing toddler foot—can give a man the shits. “It’s totally possible,” he groaned, lying prone on the couch. “Ask anyone.” I think he’s FULL of shit, personally, but I’ve been wrong before.
Jul
15
July 15, 2007
It seems like for all the positive things I heard about having children (joyous, wonderful, can be taught amusing curse words), nobody bothered to mention that once you give birth, you will never have another relaxing weekend again. Remember doing whatever the hell you wanted to do with your 48 luxurious hours off from work, like sleeping in? Or reading a book for more than five minutes at a time? Yeah, forget that noise. This is Life 2.0, where the only person who gets to do what they want to do is the same person whose presence ensures you never get to do what you want to do. (Hint: this person is very short, and often can be found pooping their pants.)
It’s been a nonstop, extremely vigorous weekend of Toddler Summer Entertainment; we’ve shlepped Riley from the farm to the zoo to a bunch of playgrounds to our backyard and we’ve played in pools and fountains and jungle gyms and between all that and the eight hundred thousand million sippy cup refills and Riley’s increasingly delayed bedtimes (WHY GOD WHY) I am relieved as hell that it’s over and all this festivity can come to an end. Truly, I need a day of boring emails and pointless meetings to recharge my parenting battery. Thank god for Mondays (something I never thought I’d say, along with “Hold still while I get that booger”).
I thought I’d share some pictures of the zoo we visited on Saturday, because it was so . . . well, let’s take a look:
The benefits of this zoo is that it’s small, no one goes there (easy parking), and it’s a short drive from our house. The downside is that aside from a lot of tropical birds, some lemurs, and reindeer, there’s not much to the place.
Although there was this giant metal bear.
And there were these . . . what the fuck are these? My god, with their serpentine necks and freakishly deformed heads and — oh, wait. Alpacas. Okayyyy.
I would have photographed the emus but the sign made me crap my pants.
In order to shelter Riley from the alpacas and emus, we took him to the Creepy Garden of Metal Animals.
Which, I think, nicely prepared him for this.
Yes, if you haven’t quite gotten your fill of exotic animal life at the zoo, just mosey over to the little room near the entrance for a REAL TREAT.
Note Riley’s childish innocence peeling away in visible waves.
On our way out, I caught sight of this thing and almost called JB to bring Riley over — thinking, gosh, we talk about monkeys a lot, and I bet he’s never seen a real one, and . . .
And then I took a closer look, and we left the zoo. And I haven’t been able to watch “Curious George” since.
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