So…the plan was to go to the art museum. It’s cool there, you know. I mean, beyond the metaphorical, it’s actually temperate inside the building. Whereas outside, it is the burning sands of hell. Seriously, it’s 500 degrees. Rubber melts, babies cry, it’s freaking August in Texas.
But you see, Boy can read. And we got a flyer from the Dallas Zoo, pimping us to join as members. It had a gorilla on it, and text that read “Come to the Dallas Zoo!”. Boy opened the flyer, read the stuff about all the new exhibits, like the African penguins (did you know there were “hot weather” penguins? I did not. Little surfing South African tuxedo birds. Groovy!) Plus, there was marketing chatter about the Monorail. (And who here can hear the word Monorail and not have the Simpson’s song run through your head? What? Just me? Ok, then, moving on.)
“Mommy!”, he says, his big blue eyes blinking up at my barely coffeed consciousness, “Can we go to the Zoo? I really wanna go to the zoo.”
Me: Erm…it’s really hot little dude.
Him: But it’s ok, they have trees.
Me: I don’t think trees will abrogate the contract the sun has with Texas to melt anything stupid enough to be outside, bud.
Him: What’s abrogate?
Me: Start to explain contact law, in the hopes that I can distract him from the idea of Crocodile Isle. Because hope springs eternal in the chest of a woman trying to avoid the Evil Daystar.
Him: Yeah, yeah…whatever. They have a train! And crocodiles…nom, nom, nom! (Yes, the boy has seen I can has Cheezburger? and thinks it’s hysterical.) And a Children’s Zoo with goats and birds and chickens and everything!
Me: But…but…but, wouldn’t you rather see the Modernists Exhibit at the DMA? It’s air conditioned. I’ll even buy you lunch at the *nice* restaurant. You could have Salmon on a cedar plank…you love salmon! (As I will spare no expense to avoid the outside world in August.)
Him: Na, it’s a modern art museum, they’ll always have modern art there. But the train doesn’t run all year, so let’s go to the zoo instead.
Me: Ok sweetie, I told you that you could pick; if the Zoo is what you want, the Zoo it will be. (Dreading the day…oh dear lords, dreading the day.)
So off to the zoo. When switching from rational “in-town” bag to “trekking through the wilderness” backpack so that I could carry water, and snacks, and extra socks, and camera and all the other necessities of life in the outback, I forgot my phone, and my meds, (and lipstick, although I doubt anyone would notice that my dessicated corpse was inappropriately made up for the wilds of Dallas), and apparently my sanity, because for some unknown reason, I packed bottles of water…as though there wouldn’t be water (expensive, but cold) every half a mile or so. But no, I had to schlep along an extra 400 pounds of water…I am a crazy person.
And all of this, and I never took a single picture. I think because I was barely conscious by the time we got a mile into this 1000 mile journey. Damn, it was HOT! I didn’t want to drip on my work camera. I don’t care if my people once lived in in Camel Territory, they were Phoenicians, they lived on the beach for god’s sake. It’s civilized on the beach. I can’t say the same for South Dallas.
Boy had a fabulous time. I am not sure I shall recover before he’s ready for high school. I am fairly sure I’ll hide the fliers from the zoo during the summer months from this point forward though.