What Goes Around Comes Around

We went to the zoo last week. It was lovely. Medium Pants loved the sea lion show and Small Pants loved the polar bear exhibit. The animals cooperated and put on a show. We even got to see the enormous boa constrictor eat a rabbit - sick, I know. Why do monkeys have such ugly butts? I have always wondered that.

As we were leaving the zoo, after a pleasant day of no whining, arguing, fits or name calling (unbelieveable, really) we headed toward the front gates. They have a beautiful fountain and "river walk" thing with small waterfalls complete with bridges and stepping stones. Well, who can resist the call of the stepping stone? Medium Pants crossed the water a few times on the stones as nimble as a gazelle. Impressed, I asked Small Pants if he wanted to cross on them. He said yes, but wanted me to do it with him. Pants commented a few times (he states it was four to be exact) that he didn't think it was a very good idea.

"There aren't any signs saying not to. And look, everyone else is doing it." I replied. Now, let me stop for a moment to acknowledge the parental error of my - everybody else is doing it - comment. I know, OK? Shut it. And no, I wouldn't jump off a bridge if everyone else did.

So off we go. Holding hands, I step on the first stone and then the second. Small Pants steps on the first and just keeps on coming. I get to the third one and, oops, it's a little wobbly. Small Pants just keeps on coming. I think that I can just step into the water, regain my balance and continue. I just have on flip flops, so it wouldn't hurt my shoes. I step back into the water.... and my foot just keeps going down and down and down even further. It appears the zoo engineers thought that a drainage hole would be perfect at the base of the stepping stones. So down my foot goes until I finally hit bottom. The water is up to my knee and I totally lose the rest of my balance.

I end up sitting in the waterfall, with the water up to my ribs, pulling my poor child in with me. I do manage to hold him up out of the deepest part of the water and grab my flip flop as it floats downstream. Pants thought I had broken my ankle and sweet Medium Pants had this odd look on his face. He really really wanted to laugh, but was unsure if he was allowed to. Well, what can you do? You are sitting in the center of the entrance to the zoo, people are coming in and out - entire families - seeing you sitting in the middle of this water display.

I was laughing my ass off. I mean, how funny could that have possibly looked? I would have laughed if it had happened to someone else. I couldn't stop laughing and Small Pants was just looking at me. He was angry because "Mama pulled me in the water and now I am all wet, Daddy!" Poor lad was a touch indignant, plus he had on nylon soccer shorts, so he proceeded to walk like he had taken a humongous poop in his pants - his legs were spread apart and his arms outstretched. As soon as I started laughing, so did Pants and Medium Pants. Small Pants? Not so much.

Pants pulled my big ass out of the water and asked if I was ok. I had a big scratch on the back of my leg and my foot was burning. I took off my shoe and my entire foot was covered with blood - it was dripping onto the ground. Scary at first, but after I rinsed it off, I just ripped a big chunk out of the bottom of my big toe. I am nothing if not graceful, people!

Anyway, as soon as it was ascertained that I would survive, we went to the car. Small Pants had to ride home in just his Spiderman underwear because his clothes were soaked. He wouldn't let Daddy turn on the air conditioner because it was too cold. He and I were perfectly comfortable after our swim. The other two were sweating profusely. It's hot here, remember? But we finally got home, and when we did Pants set about telling everyone he knew about how damn funny it was and occasionally imitating my whole backward armwaving fall. He would not stop. The mileage he thought he was going to get from this! After all he did tell me (4 times, remember?) not to do it.

After ridiculing me for entirely too long, he worked in the yard a little bit, cleaning up shrubs around the trees and getting some brush cleared. Every so often, he would stop to get a cold drink and laugh at me some more. Even going so far occasionally to demonstrate how my comic sideshow looked from his angle. For my benefit, how kind.

He gets up the next morning and appears to have a lovely outbreak of poison ivy all across his forehead and arms. As he is standing there looking in the mirror at it and I am standing next to him at my sink putting on makeup, he says:

"What the hell is that?"

My response?

"Karma, baby."