The art of compromise

On Sunday, we were having a hard time figuring out what to do. Matt wanted to go for a long hike. Frankie wanted to have a relaxing play day and not be bossed around by boring adults. I wanted to go shopping. There we were: three strong-minded individuals with conflicting ideas of what makes a rockin' Sunday.

In the end, I came up with a pretty good compromise. We drove about 30 minutes away to a tiny little zoo called "Trotters World of Animals." Frankie and I goofed around at the zoo for a few hours, while Matt hiked on a nearby trail. When he was finished with the hike, we drove down the street to Keswick where Matt watched Frankie while I walked around the town square, window shopping for a hour.

As it turned out, everyone got to do a little of what they wanted. Frankie was hilarious at the zoo, by the way. As we walked in, there was a pen with two enormous tapirs in it.

I pointed to the animals and said excitedly, "Frankie, look at that!!"

She briefly looked over, shrugged, and said "Oh. Tapirs." She showed the same amount of enthusiasm that a person might demonstrate in saying, "Oh. Lightbulbs." She then proceeded to run over to a nearby playground where she played for an hour without so much as a second thought to the exotic animals around her. I think we've taken her to so many museums and zoos that she thinks that a tapir is just about as common a sight as a squirrel.

I did persuade her to go to an exotic pet show in one of the zoo's classrooms. She had a blast, but it was pretty much a living nightmare for me. The zoo had trained parrots, parakeets, rats, and ferrets to run and fly all around the audience-- They zoomed over head, perched on shoulders, and darted in and out between our seats. It was impressive that the animals were so well trained, but I'm not really a big fan of birds or rats. (The word phobia has even been tossed around in some circles.) It was all I could do to keep from screaming as all of those creepy creatures brushed past me. I didn't let on to Frankie that I was scared, but on the inside I was majorly freaked out.

It’s in the eyes. Birds and rats have beady, dead eyes. Can’t be trusted.