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My Leslie Knope loving wife was having a Galantine’s Day meet up with her pals and so I took advantage of my new unlimited zoo visits and took the kids to London Zoo. I very much see my decision to pay for a year’s membership as a competition that I have to win and I want to leave the zoo in financial disarray because of their stupid offer. I am going to make each trip cost a pound even if I have to go in every day (which I probably will have to).
The Sunday drive down was easy though and the drive only took about 45 minutes and would have been quicker had my escapologist son managed to terrifyingly get out of his child seat. I think I hadn’t tightened it properly, so any disaster would have been my fault, but we were on a stretch of motorway with no hard shoulder so there were a scary few minutes as I looked for somewhere to turn off. My kamikaze son could have got up to all matter of suicidal activities in that time. But we finally got the idiot back in his seat and only had to contend with the imaginary scenarios that might have unfolded.
The zoo turned out to be an excellent way to make the hours evaporate. We did about four hours and could have done more, but we had to get back to the car before the parking ticket ran out. I was properly exhausted by the time we got home and had a crazy early night, but it was fun.
Phoebe had ten pounds of birthday money and was more interested in looking round the shop than seeing the animals and bought four little brightly coloured glass creatures. I told her that she’d have to be careful with these, but inevitably one of them was broken before bedtime. But three of them survived to be crushed under foot another day.
We see an African Harrier Hawk which I remarked looked like a big pigeon. Phoebe said that the Hawk was fat, but I pointed out that that was actually just the shape of the bird, “It’s just really fat, daddy,” I was told. It was good to have the arrogant bird taken down a peg or two.
I crashed Galantine’s Day in order to pick Catie up, but I basically ended up looking after the kids that were there whilst the ladies drank prosecco, so I think I was still in the spirit of things. I got to watch the human zoo of my newly 4 year old daughter interacting with the nearly 6 year old who lived in the house. They got on OK mostly, but then there were some arguments about whose turn it was on the trampoline and some tears when Phoebe wasn’t allowed into the girl’s bedroom to see her toys. Both parties felt wronged and my daughter was inconsolable for a brief time (though the offer of some chocolate mostly brought her round). I still struggle to understand the complexities of social interaction as a 51 year old, but it’s sort of heart-breaking to watch someone have to navigate these confusing and volatile waters for the first time. Only Ernie was immune, enjoying running round the garden and being treated like a human doll by his new playmate.
It’s been a hell of a week one way or another and even this day of rest was a physical and emotional rollercoaster. But once tomorrow’s podcasts are out of the way I should be able to have a little bit of down time.
