Sunday, June 7, 2009

An Evil Petting Zoo?

Let's talk cruising. Four days ago, cruising was what us 15 year old losers did in Canton, TX after our order at the Pizza Hut had been reduced to crumbs. Loud, tasteless songs and speakers ill-equipped to handle them annoyed everyone within earshot of our rolled-down windows. This was all carried out in 104 degree heat, mind you (it was 134 inside the white Chevy Corsica). You can't imagine the smell. I guess the idea was to pick up chicks, but um, we were somewhat less than successful. No idyllic, American Graffiti nostalgia or Beach Boys soundtrack for us.

Now, I've once again had to relearn the meaning of a perfectly good English word. There are what, 1,000,000 words in the language? So naturally we have to go co-opt already existing ones. Cruising, as defined on June 7th, 2009 by the illustrious and all powerful Her Majesty, is a standing, wobbly baby going from handhold to handhold, a bit like a kid on the edge of a skating rink. Hoodahthunkit?

So Jack is cruising. But not for chicks. The other one. (Okay, he cruises for chicks too.)

Oh, the pictures. So now that we've got teeth, Jack's learning how to care for them. I mean, in between chewing on wood, stone and metal. So when he's not using the toothbrush as a wand (see blurred image above), he's using it to rub the pureed nosh around his little chompers.

Hygienically pointless? Kinda. Cute? Absolutely. I'm giving him a sharp razor and a hairdryer next week! Those pics should be a laff riot!

On the developmental Eastern Front, our hero is repeating and imitating sounds, like "da," "oh," "no-no" and allegedly "choo-choo" when a train goes by. I haven't heard this one yet. Stay tuned.

And there was the petting zoo. An evil petting zoo, you ask? Nah, I don't think so. Lots of goats in there, but I don't think evil was involved. Various animals with various smells were reviewed by the Captain, and he finished things off with a pony ride. It was nice for Jack. For us, the animal watching wasn't quite as good as the people watching.

Have I told you about Paul? H.M. had told me about a dad n' son phenomenon a while back, but I had never seen it personally.

So this house husband and his son show up to the same story time Jack and Her Highness frequent. Fine. Nothing wrong with the old post-feminism house husband gig, if you can get it.

No big deal, until oddly dressed Dad whips out his knitting at story time. You heard me.

Then there's the feral kid (Paul). This little boy looks like he's being raised by a pack of dingos. I'm struggling to describe the kid. He's filthy. From his gray, muddy little fingernails to his 2 foot long greasy blond hair, he's as dirty as you can imagine. He's about 4, and isn't bothered by the whole potty training fad. Probably waiting for that whole thing to blow over. Like disco.

But Paul isn't the real show. Dad is sporting the following getup:
1. Large-brimmed hat of uncertain cultural origin
2. Homemade tie-dyed tee shirt
3. Leather patchwork vest of some sort
4. Footlong, pioneer style beard
5. Heavily acid-washed jeans containing extreme quantities of elastic
6. Braided (likely homemade) belt with this classy royal flush beltbuckle
7. Oversized leather workboots

The knitting bag was no doubt nearby. Y'know, I'm not sure if I'm ready for a turn as a house husband yet. The dresscode is tough. Very tough.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

So you've been introduced to the field trip?! Take it from someone who loves field trips, they're great and a fantastic opportunity to observe humanity and it's offspring, and thanking the Lord above that He in His wisdom gave you your kid and now someone else's.Loved the tooth brush shots also!