A day at the ZOO….

P.U. we went to the ZOO.

Last night at dinner I was asking the children if they had gotten their reading done…blah blah blah…and my youngest says something along the lines of…”what are you about to say?”  I don’t understand what kind of ~vibe~ we give off…but every time we try to surprise the children – they know we’re up to something.  “R” was 6 years old….came downstairs for breakfast and saw a suitcase downstairs and said, “What, are we going to Disney World?”….uh, yeah, we were surprising them with that THAT morning….but what in the WORLD about a suitcase downstairs screams DISNEY WORLD?  I’m not really into things like this….but I do sorta kinda think I possess this talent to guess things as well….one time, when my husband and I were newlyweds…..he walked outside of our apartment and I got this OVERWHELMING feeling that he had gotten me a bicycle…..so I wrote it down on a piece of paper so he would believe me if I had to say…”you ain’t gonna believe this but….” and doggone if he didn’t roll in a green bicycle with a basket.  No birthday, no Valentine’s, no anniversary.  Just because.

So….bring it back to yesterday….and because the children have a long weekend and I wanted to do something fun…..I took a bag of change out of our closet….cashed it out at the bank….and bought tickets to the Zoo with it.  They brought along some spending money of their own and we had ourselves a grand day at the stinky zoo.  I must say the theme song of “Freaks come out at night” played through my head….I’m just sayin’.

On our way there – we were the FINE recipients of a good old fashioned HIT-N-RUN on the Interstate.  A girl…side swipes us ever so slightly in a red Honda CRV…she speeds up only to bob and weave in and out of traffic to get out of sight….we FORTUNATELY get her tag # (GA – Henry County – AXM 0891….uh huh…I know it’s a long shot but I mean, she could be your next door neighbor’s baby sitter and you could be lookin’ at the tag right now) and call police.  Low and damn behold….those tags come back to a Chevy Camaro…not a Honda CRV  Well, poop.  I reckon we better start saving those quarters again to fix that little swipe mark.  We decided: instead of overwhelming frustration….we are going to count our blessings that we weren’t sent spinning down the Interstate at 70 miles per hour.  And here’s what we continued on to see…