Tour Guide

Another beautiful day here in Louisville. Perfect for a day at the zoo. I was a little apprehensive about going with my Mom's Club. Andrew and I usually mosey through the exhibits, and I knew we would be separated from the group after the first stop.

Boy was I wrong.

I have spawned the ultimate tour guide.

Or Boss man. Or Boy-who-never-shuts-up. Okay, so one mom kiddingly referred to him as "Hitler" as we passed the gazelles.

Don't judge that woman. At the moment she said it, Andrew was hollering, "Everybody quiet. We have to go the right way."

Dear God. What have I created? It started the minute I unleashed him towards the rhinos. He runs ahead yelling, "Come on, guys, it's the rhinos". Then he proceeded to touch a little girl on the arm, stick his face into hers, and say "They are just friends" (she erringly asked where the baby rhinos were). Now, repeat this procedure for almost every animal exhibit. Luckily, my Mom's Club is full of very relaxed, fun-loving moms, who just laughed at Andrew and were generally amazed at his knowledge and interest in the animals. Now they understand why I go almost every week :)

Anyway, this bundle of dictatorship melted down just after the lions. He suddenly stopped leading and just pouted. Don't ask me why...he's 2. He went from excitedly running ahead of the group chatting about animals to standing in the back of the pack, his upper lip stuck out as far as it would go. That was apparently the end of the tour. He realized that his tour group wasn't respecting his opinion. I mean, when he earnestly got in one child's face and told them, "That's a BONGO, a BONGO, do you see the BONGO?", that child had the nerve to just walk away without acknowledging his help. Who could blame him for quitting his post 1/4 of the was through the zoo?

I think the lesson I learned this morning is...THIS CHILD NEEDS A SIBLING. He is too used to being the star of the show, with everyone hanging on his every word and opinion. Pa'avo*, you can't get here soon enough.

* Pa'avo is what we affectionately refer to Baby Spurgeon #2. To make a disturbing story quick, Pa'avo is the first name of the symphony conductor we saw on our date night in January. You do the math, and figure out why we're calling Cletus the Fetus "Pa'avo" instead. Actually, Pa'avo was really growing on me as his future name, until my cousin Nicole pointed out that pavo means duck in Spanish. Not so cute anymore. Oh, and the fact that every time he asked why he was given a Finnish name, we would have to add years onto his therapy. :)