The Least Favorite Part

It was a beautiful day that just screamed for the zoo. So, my best friend, Christie, and I packed up the kids and went.


We let Maddie and Ethan run ahead of us, only calling out if they got too far ahead of us, while we leisurely strolled behind. They had a blast. Life was good.

As we were getting close to finishing the loop, I started praying. Please don't let them see it. Please send a squirrel or something for them to chase, so they run right past it. Just LOCK the gates.


There is a part of the zoo, that every parent dreads. I always try to avoid it, but Maddie smells it, and I have no choice. No- it's not the concession stand. It's the petting zoo.




Home of the best groomed goats in Nashville.

Christie muttered under her breath, "This is my least favorite part of the zoo." "Mine, too."

And I felt a little bad about lying to her. Sure, the petting zoo is bad. And gross. And full of stinky goat pellets. But, it's not nearly as bad as what we were about to do.

Take two four year olds to the ginormous (yes, that's a word) playground. 66,000 feet of playground. I've been to this playground before, with both kids. And, something bad happened.

But, that was last year, and I had another adult with me. Surely, the kids will stay together, and we can keep an eye on both of them.


You guessed it.


Hearts pounding, eyes searching, mouths screaming ETHAN!!


Bless his heart, he was just as scared as we were when his mommy found him. Crying and walking alone.


But, not so scared, that he didn't do it again.


I think the second time really got to him, though.


As we were leaving, Christie told me that Ethan is banned from the zoo playground, until he is eight.


I think she may have a new least favorite part of the zoo.