My wife of lo these many years is an amazing woman. Me on the other hand I am deficit in many aspects of parenting. F has the ability and the follow through to take up the slack. My job deprives me of opportunities to go on school trips and attend class parties and the like. My schedule is set four weeks in advance and most schools don’t give but about two weeks notice of upcoming events.
F, super mom that she is, on one occasion took time off to shepherd our youngest son on one of the five days of "school at the zoo" visits to be held by his class this week. She did it because on that day the boy turned eight and she wanted the quality time with him. I note he was telling everyone in his class that he was then nine because he was tired of being picked on for being the youngest in his class. I thought the three punches into the nose of the 9 year old boy several weeks prior had resolved that age discrimination issue but I was wrong.
Well back to the main story. Part of the day's activities at the local zoo were to spend time shadowing the activities of an animal care specialist, we used to call them the zoo keepers. Apparently the kids broke up into groups to watch feeding and other activities undertaken by the staff. That portion of the day went without a hitch. F said it was kind of fun. The next part of the day was to be spent with the kids watching their chosen animal. You know this is the point where the kids were to be indoctrinated with the basics of the scientific method. Each group was to spend 45 minutes making notes, sketches, etc. about the behavior of a specific animal.
To help parents deal with specific situations that might arise they were told to respond to animals defecating or urinating as simply being part of how the observed animal processes waste. Copulation was to be addressed as simple part of the natural order of things, i.e., that's nature’s way of giving us more monkeys, etc. A broad but not exhaustive set of responses was provided. Well, it wasn't enough.
The animals my son's group was to watch were golden lion tamarins, see http://www.blueplanetbiomes.org/golden_lion_tamarin.htm . And see them they did in all their unique glory. As my wife recounted to me after the fact no provisions were made in the parental instructions for moving on to another animal if unanticipated problems arose. No real plan was discussed as to what to do when a meteorite (or the moral equivalent of a meteorite) hits the cage. Apparently the discussion before hand also did not cover what to do if the two male tamarins moved front and center in the habitat and commenced to felatiate each other for the better part of the observation period. Nor did it address what to say to a third grader when the comment was made, "Owwwwh, he's got that other one's wee wee in his mouth."
In a game attempt to try and stay on task my wife indicated grooming was an essential part of the tamarins' social behaviors hoping that the simian brain salad surgery would quickly end. Grooming? I haven't heard it referred to as that before. When the non stop groomathon(?) didn't abate F directed the children to another tamarin group.
Apparently one of the local Stepford mom's (you know the one's who always have time to be there because they don't work ‘cause hubby is a well off stockbroker or something to that end) tried to steer them back to required animals. This Laura Ashleigh clad thirty something quickly discovered that despite her looking down her nose at my wife for not following the teacher's express directions, that maybe discretion was actually the better part of valor. In the end (or should I say more to the point?) the mom was actually okay with the change in species, quite grateful in fact. As the group was being shuttled out of the observation area and into the next part of the zoo experience a third parent whispered sotto vocce to Francie, "They are still going at IT!!!"
Ah children and nature. To quote my wife, "I am never going on another f@*king zoo field trip again".
Two years later and I still laugh at this one.
F, super mom that she is, on one occasion took time off to shepherd our youngest son on one of the five days of "school at the zoo" visits to be held by his class this week. She did it because on that day the boy turned eight and she wanted the quality time with him. I note he was telling everyone in his class that he was then nine because he was tired of being picked on for being the youngest in his class. I thought the three punches into the nose of the 9 year old boy several weeks prior had resolved that age discrimination issue but I was wrong.
Well back to the main story. Part of the day's activities at the local zoo were to spend time shadowing the activities of an animal care specialist, we used to call them the zoo keepers. Apparently the kids broke up into groups to watch feeding and other activities undertaken by the staff. That portion of the day went without a hitch. F said it was kind of fun. The next part of the day was to be spent with the kids watching their chosen animal. You know this is the point where the kids were to be indoctrinated with the basics of the scientific method. Each group was to spend 45 minutes making notes, sketches, etc. about the behavior of a specific animal.
To help parents deal with specific situations that might arise they were told to respond to animals defecating or urinating as simply being part of how the observed animal processes waste. Copulation was to be addressed as simple part of the natural order of things, i.e., that's nature’s way of giving us more monkeys, etc. A broad but not exhaustive set of responses was provided. Well, it wasn't enough.
The animals my son's group was to watch were golden lion tamarins, see http://www.blueplanetbiomes.org/golden_lion_tamarin.htm . And see them they did in all their unique glory. As my wife recounted to me after the fact no provisions were made in the parental instructions for moving on to another animal if unanticipated problems arose. No real plan was discussed as to what to do when a meteorite (or the moral equivalent of a meteorite) hits the cage. Apparently the discussion before hand also did not cover what to do if the two male tamarins moved front and center in the habitat and commenced to felatiate each other for the better part of the observation period. Nor did it address what to say to a third grader when the comment was made, "Owwwwh, he's got that other one's wee wee in his mouth."
In a game attempt to try and stay on task my wife indicated grooming was an essential part of the tamarins' social behaviors hoping that the simian brain salad surgery would quickly end. Grooming? I haven't heard it referred to as that before. When the non stop groomathon(?) didn't abate F directed the children to another tamarin group.
Apparently one of the local Stepford mom's (you know the one's who always have time to be there because they don't work ‘cause hubby is a well off stockbroker or something to that end) tried to steer them back to required animals. This Laura Ashleigh clad thirty something quickly discovered that despite her looking down her nose at my wife for not following the teacher's express directions, that maybe discretion was actually the better part of valor. In the end (or should I say more to the point?) the mom was actually okay with the change in species, quite grateful in fact. As the group was being shuttled out of the observation area and into the next part of the zoo experience a third parent whispered sotto vocce to Francie, "They are still going at IT!!!"
Ah children and nature. To quote my wife, "I am never going on another f@*king zoo field trip again".
Two years later and I still laugh at this one.
2 comments:
Apart from the "monkey shines", your wife is exceptional because she can tolerate your assorted quirks. And it seems to work very well. And has for 23 or so years.
She is, indeed, a saint.
Oh...my...stars. I can just see the little minds at work outside the monkey cage. And I hate to sound southern, but "bless hear heart." I'd also have to agree with the previous post on her ability to tolerate: not only monkeys, Stepford wives, but you, too.
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