On Sunday the Fokkers went to the zoo for it’s yearly Halloween-themed funtimes. The zoo is decorated with spooky (and often funny for adults) displays and there is actual trick-or-treating at various places. Awesomeness abounds.
There were some initial dramas. First, there was a Colt’s home game in Indy, which was not great vis-à-vis traffic but was even worse in terms of zoo parking. Apparently the zoo, unable to pay taxes on all the land it’s parking lot sits on, sold part of it to Indy. (Thank you, Indianapolis, for gouging the zoo instead of giving them a tax break. You have truly shown us what suck looks like in a city.) Indy, ecstatic at the new territory within a mile of the stadium, urges people to avail themselves of the zoo parking. Do asshats restrict themselves to the non-zoo-visitor exclusive parts of the lot? Hell, no. This means that mine was not the only vehicle full of kids in costumes that was desperately trying to find somewhere to park while twatwaffles in team colors moseyed past. I wound up dropping Sweet Babou and the kids off at the entrance and then took another 20 minutes to find an illegal parking spot before joining them. This was very hard on Sweet Babou, me, and Spock.
Moreover, the zoo was packed. It was a beautiful weekend, but it was a little too warm for maximum Fokker comfort and this, when added to the crowds, made Sweet Babou very cranky. Spock had just awoken from a nap and was also hella cranky, which added nothing to Sweet Babou’s calm-bank.
However, as we moved deeper into the zoo the mass of people thinned a bit, allowing breathing/stroller room. The animals were all in fine fettle and willing to be gawked at by small girls. Sweet Babou recovered his equilibrium. Spock grew cheerful. Thus, I was able to get some cute pictures of the family, including one with their little faces obscured for their privacy:
Lilo and Stitch (who is mostly hidden by her daddy) went as “beautiful, good” witches. It being me, I reminded them that good witches could also be ugly, which they told me they knew but that they wanted to be the beautiful ones. I am always a bit conflicted about the witch costume, since I have friends who are witches. Is it a bit like the costumes of “Indians” which I detest as native appropriations? I decided to file it under dressing up like a firefighter or a nun or a “princess” … it is more about the occupation/vocation than the rude dismissal of entire cultures as a monolithic stereotype. You can’t see it, but Spock was a skeleton; she had glow-in-the-dark bones on the front of her pants and top. Sweet Babou’s shirt has “This IS my costume” written on it, completing the ensemble cast.
By the time we left the zoo it was agreed that everyone had enjoyed a fun day. Happily, my van was not ticketed in spite of my parking shenanigans. The Fokkers were able to drive home in peace and everyone was in bed at a reasonable hour.
Good times, y’all.