Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Zoo.
I should’ve known it was all going to shit when he broke down at the sea lion tank.
There was no place for him to press his face against the swine-flu laden glass and glare at the sea lions as they taunt the children with their twirling.
On to the alligator: Ruination and misery.
No interest in the flamingos.
Sidebar: have you ever smelled a flamingo?
Don’t.
Onward to what?
The Gorillas? Great.
“The gorillas are mad at me.”
“I don’t think they blame you for being in here.”
“They’re mad at me!”
An oasis:
It was a holiday.
Free bunny ears for all.
He donned his ears.
He had a juicebox.
It was all working out.
Then came the kangaroos.
Kangaroos. Who could have a meltdown about kangaroos?
He.
If I had the legs of one of those elephants in that Dali painting, I wouldn’t have been able to lift him high enough.
The red kangaroos were indifferent to his tragedy.
They munched the leaves and dreamed of a world made of marmite.
We sat on the tram and he fell silent.
There was a glaze over his eyes.
Something that said,
“I just can’t handle the fucking world today.”
“These are great animals, and I don’t really understand what they’re doing here, but they’re great and I just can’t handle it.”
And if he could use big words he would say:
“It’s just so big, Dad. There’s so much and I don’t know what to do with it all. It’s an avalanche and it doesn’t stop. Again and again, everyday there’s more of the world and sometimes all I can do is stamp my feet and cry and be mad at everything for being so much. It’s too much dad.”
And he’s right.
And it’s too much for me too.
And he doesn’t have the benefit of the bottle of Finlandia that waits for me at home.
He just has to deal with it.
Somehow.
And he does it by curling up on my lap, and forcing me to read a story five times and watching some “kids show” that looks like a fever-dream.
But then the next day there’s more.
More to know more to see.
And what can one do but take cover beneath pop-up books and Scandinavian Vodka.
It just gets bigger from here.
