Pig-Pen

In a few weeks I will return to my job as a chauffeur. I dread the back to school schedule. It is nearly impossible for me to be on time. Let’s just say I have written my share of Please excuse my son for being late… notes. I usually blame the alarm clock. The main office secretary doesn’t need to know my 6-year-old refused to get dressed because he wanted to play video games or that my daughter spilled a tiny drop of juice on her shirt as we were walking out the door and demanded a new outfit.

I am trying to enjoy my last few weeks of freedom. I took the kids to the zoo a few days ago. What is more fun than staring at caged animals who long to run free?

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We met my friend Cara and her daughters. We didn’t expect our children to see an R rated show. The turtles were going at it. The female turtle clearly had a headache, but couldn’t get away from this fella. One father explained, “They are playing leap frog.” Another mother told her son, “They are hugging.” We quickly moved on to the next exhibit. A large crowd had gathered at the tiger exhibit. It was sitting in a small pool of water. Of course, with any exhibit comes that overwhelming stench. My 3-year-old daughter says, “What is that smell? Mom is that you again?” First of all, if you think Mommy has body odor perhaps you can pull me aside to quietly address the problem. You don’t need to announce it to a group of strangers. Again? As if it’s a recurring problem for Mom to smell like tiger feces and urine? I give up.

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