The Horse Zoo
by Eric Miller
“We’re
babysitting the two boys all day on Saturday,”
my wife called out, as she hung up the phone.
“All day?
We’d better find something good and time
consuming to entertain them,” I noted,
sweating ever so slightly.
I checked in
with my activities adviser, Coach Google, to see
what was out there that would keep their blinking
eyes staring, their fidgety bodies still, and
their toothless smiles wide.
“Hey,
‘The Pesky Proscenium Players’ are
doing ‘Peter Pan’ on Saturday,” I
announced with relief.
“That’s
awfully far to drive,” my wife pointed out.
“Well,
that’s good. It burns up more time,” I
explained. “Add that to the right lunch, in
the right faraway place, at the right time, and
we have the day under control.”
With
Grandma’s approval, I pressed the
“Purchase Tickets” link, and smiled at
my success at still being able to live up to the
Boy Scout’s Motto to “Be Prepared.”
The e-mail at
the top of the list on Saturday morning was an
announcement from “The Pesky Proscenium
Players” that the performance for that day
was canceled due to illness, which made me feel
ill. Rechecking the movie listings, I became even
more ill to see that there were no movies playing
that were suitable for the boys.
“Grandma
Houston, we have a problem,” I announced in
her ear.
“Now,
what?, she snapped, in her most endearing manner.
“Cast
members are sick. The play is canceled. We are
entering rough waters.”
My
daughter’s car pulled up to the front door,
exactly on time. The two guys popped out of the
car, bounded up the front steps, entered
the house, removed their shoes, and began to ice
skate in their socks over our slippery and shiny
wood floors.
“I want a
snack,” the younger one said.
“Me too,”
the older one chimed in.
“But you
just had breakfast,” I reminded them.
“Yeah,
but that was a real long time ago.”
“We’ll
get something to eat at the zoo,”
I announced.
“I
don’t want to go to the zoo again. We always
go there,” the oldest said.
“This is
a special zoo, one you’ve never been to.”
“There’s
no such thing as special zoo. Seen one, seen
‘em all,” the oldest observed.
“What
kind of special zoo is it?,” the youngest
asked.
“A horse
zoo.”
“I never
heard of a horse zoo,” the oldest noted.
“That’s
why we’re going there. It‘s very
exciting.”
“What do
the horses do at the horse zoo?,” the
youngest asked.
“Oh, they
run around and try to catch and pass each other,”
I said.
“You are
not taking my grandsons to a racetrack,” my
wife exclaimed.
“I want
to go to the racetrack,” both boys screamed,
jumping up and down.
My wife,
daughter, and neighbors still have not talked to
me since I took the boys to see the thoroughbreds
run. The boys, however, keep asking when we’re
going again.
“As soon
as the Family Services Agency stops following me,”
I tell them.
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