Every five or six years we talk ourselves into venturing over the mountains to visit Seattle. This time it was our youngest; he’s been begging to visit a zoo. And we said to ourselves, It’s a Monday, how busy can it really be?
Thirty minutes to go a mile? Yup. The crazy pedestrians in fishnet shorts and flip flops were even leaving us in the dust.
But we saw the zoo. My son got inches away from a brown bear who seemed convinced that if he head butted that glass hard enough, enough times, he would make it through to the outside world, and we watched an impromptu water/music show complete with drenched, suprised octogenarians and Beethoven’s 9th.
And like after every other trip, as we drove back into town we remembered how much we love Moses Lake, where the worst thing that ever happened to traffic was the clock they put up on Third avenue:
The best part is that I can’t imagine any scenario in which I’ll ever need to go back–my youngest has now seen the longed-for zoo, and my older ones have all agreed that they have to take their own children to whatever zoos they deem appropriate, without my assistance. And that if they ever live in a metropolis with a population larger than 40,000 or so, we will may rightfully disown them.