Lilon

Back in late May we took a family trip to the San Francisco zoo.  It was one of our best visits to date.  Uncle Geoff and Auntie An-la-la and Baby Devon all came, too— Devon’s inaugural visit.

The zoo had a baby tiger that came running to eat a big steak when his mommy roared for him.  The four-year-old gorilla came up and banged on the glass right in front of us, and then threw dirt at his mom.  Really it was dirt.  She immediately put him in primate time out.  No joke.  And of course the daddy gorilla peered deep into my soul.  As he always does, posted as family lookout.  Even the bears were out and about.  It was the first time we’ve gone to the zoo and all of the animals were actually visible and not hiding in their heat-lamp tanning beds hidden from us looky-loos.  It was a completely different experience when compared to our first and last trip to the Oakland zoo.  Let’s just say I think I paid $8 to eat a bowl of dogfood for lunch.  Of course I ate it.  I was starving.

But the very best part of our last zoo visit was a four-week old baby giraffe.  She was possibly the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.  And… she started running and chasing birds around the pasture.  Perfectly silent, and yet as menacing as a toddler can be.  If she could have roared, I know she would have.

And speaking of roaring… last week I was nominated as first shift for nighttime book reading.  Natesy quickly produced a book about a lion.  That’s right, a lion.  I read the entire thing, substituting lilon, and by the end he was back to lilon.  Roooooaaaar!  Thank goodness.

But the next day he woke-up and had doubled-down on lion as being the true and credible pronunciation.  There’s no convincing him now.  Believe me, I’ve tried.  Lilon is gone for good.

Honestly, I think a little piece of me has died.

Mew.