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My husband has a career in theme parkery and I spend my days with our 3 tiny gentlemen. We believe in exorbitant amounts of grace and laughter. And caffeine.
A quick Google search led me to an exotic animal park a few hours away and an Airbnb on a farm a little bit further than that. The park itself can be best described by my 7 year old who said, “The farm we’re staying at tonight will be nicer than this, right? ” tigers who were doing their part to keep the interactive cub experience going) was running into an employee who let us play with her feisty 1 year old monkey. From the exotic animal handler experience (very dangerous) to the Walmart support bird to the hidden gem that is Jasmine Moran Children’s Museum to Airbnb at The Farm on Fishmarket…
At our stop, the driver said, “Now when it’s time to return, you’ll just hop on the number 12 bus. We found the bus stop where our #12 bus would come and sat down to wait. This bus will get us to the station at 12:40, exactly 2 minutes after our train departs. We pulled up to the station, peeled ourselves out of the warm, dry bus, and as we started walking to buy return train tickets, we saw lights coming down the tracks.
The boys and I left Frank I and came home to Frank II: A few minutes after walking in the door from our trip, I heard an “uhhh….mom? There are 4 types of goldfish at Walmart: white (Frank I), black (Frank II), orange, and calico, as pictured on the species information cards displayed below the fish tanks. He’s 4 seconds away from realizing Frank I and Frank II are different fish. Well, we know the white fish grow into the black fish – because that’s what Frank did
and I was a little preoccupied trying to clean the toddler’s clothes and car seat from where he vomited during the road trip after eating 2 pounds of gas station gummy worms and Taco Bell, in that order. It’s just that Alex was wearing loafers, Taylor was dressed in an Oxford shirt (because “I didn’t exactly pack grave-digging clothes. I was grateful Sam waited to die until the kids were in bed, but apparently my seven year old wandered into the kitchen while all of us were outside digging in the dark. I’m thankful for my giant-hearted kids, for the kind of family who will pick up flashlights and shovels when need be, for the kind of laughter that makes you pee a little, and for unforeseen holiday moments that miraculously combine all of those things.