“A Day at the Zoo” by Jennifer Furner
I unload Amelia from her car seat, gather her snack and water cups, and zip them away in the diaper bag. I place her sunglasses on her face and ask, “Who’s ready for a fun day at the zoo?”
I unload Amelia from her car seat, gather her snack and water cups, and zip them away in the diaper bag. I place her sunglasses on her face and ask, “Who’s ready for a fun day at the zoo?”
Little scientists my ass! Left alone for a few minutes and they managed to do this.
I liked cooking meat over coals outside on the patio barbeque for the taste and the smoky flavor and of course less kitchen mess.
Last week was the third consecutive book of the week with which school sent my son home to practice reading and the family it’s about is black.
At just the tender age of three you joined a century-long conversation about the shortcomings of women’s fashion.
Time is relative, so Einstein told us. I am sure he was right—I’m not really qualified to contradict one of the world’s greatest scientists—but motherhood has taught me that distance is relative, too.
The homework assignment was simple; make something to do with transportation.
Molly wants to swing, so I pick her up and thread her legs through the vinyl harness. I shove her off, and she wheee’s, yawing to one side. It’s higher than I push her with other parents around. But we have the park to ourselves, for now.