The human zoo, or the state of the estate. Also, some booze.

photoYesterday marked the start of National Zookeeper Week. Yeah, me!

To celebrate, the children danced half-naked in a thunderstorm then used every clean towel in the house to not dry off. They left footprint puddles throughout the house.

Later, the Pterodactyl excavated some treasures from the trash and created a sailboat, a flower, and a functional cowbell. He may or may not have been dressed as a Spanish flamenco dancer at the time.

The Tyrant, meanwhile, has become obsessed with curling her eyelashes and has been walking everywhere holding a curler against her face like she’s trying to keep her eyeball from falling out. She stays pretty close to us because her brother told her a story about 1-eyed Barbie dolls who stab parents to death. Also, she cut holes in Teddy’s armpits and pulled out some stuffing to make him skinnier so he won’t fall off her head. That’s where she keeps him.

I’m not sure what the Diva has been up to besides watching multiple episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras, but she made everyone dinner the other night so she’s feeling guilty about something.

I’ve been treating every day like it’s a national celebration of something. I nap, avoid exercise, and supplement my diet with Uncle Val’s Botanical Gin. It’s all natural. I mix it with Fever-Tree tonic, which is made from the bark of a special tree grown in the Congo. The whole elixir seems medicinal; it’s almost irresponsible not to drink it.**

**I am not a doctor.

“Gin makes your crazy,” my mother said.

“Crazy happy,” I told her.

And if the zookeeper isn’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. Right?

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