Our Day at the Zoo

I love having kids! You are given a unique opportunity to be a kid again. You get to be excited about all the things that aren’t your age anymore. It was a beautiful Saturday two weeks ago when we decided to take the girls to the zoo. (We didn’t get the memo that the rest of North Carolina thought the same thing!) It was so crowded that people were parking on the roads, on grass, and along roads nowhere near the parking lots.

So many cars!

It was a wonderful time. We had the two big girls walk, and Danielle rode in the stroller. Melanie was so tired by the end. She is not used to that much walking. As we left, I told her “we should come every day, Mel.” She whined “Every day?” I said I was only joking, and she sighed in relief. You can get too much of a good thing. We saw most all the African animals. It was slow going with the crowds. Sylvia could have watched the lion all morning. She kept giving him her fiercest roar.

The bird house was chock full of exotic birds and a real treat. Of course, Melanie’s favorite part was the air vent.

I was very thankful I learned last time we went to the zoo to pack a lunch. We would have been waiting for hours to eat, and we are a horrible lot when hungry.

PB&J's in the woods!

All the girls loved the animals. Next time Daddy might take a day off of work to skip the crowds.

Danielle riding like a big girl!

To the little kid in all of us!

p.s. We left at around 3pm. You can see, in the top left corner, people still waiting in line, on the bridge, to get in! Ugh!

Breaking the Rules

Yesterday we played Cootie. It is a game where the player acquires bug body parts as one rolls the corresponding number with dice. You MUST roll a 1 and then a 2 to build your bug body before you may collect other parts to your bug. Sylvia creamed Daddy and Melanie. She had her bug built in record time. Melanie was devastated. She had been rolling and rolling the die and could not get a 2 despite everyone else getting 2’s over and over again. She only had a head, and Sylvia had won! She had no chance.

Daddy swoops in to save the day. He consoles baby girl who is crying because she lost the game. She was trying so hard not to cry. She knew it wasn’t being a good sport, but she couldn’t help herself. She had asked all weekend to play Cootie, and when we finally played, she lost. (These games are horrible because you really have no control over winning, and when you lose, it’s usually not even close.) Daddy says, “Don’t worry, Melanie. We’ll play to see who wins second place.”

Daddy rolls and rolls the numbers he needs and just ignores them, quickly handing Melanie the dice before she notices. He continues to do this over and over again. They get to the point where they are “tied.” Daddy chimes in “Now, whoever gets a 6 first is the winner.” This is because I have glared at him so long that he has no choice but to allow her the possibility of losing. Melanie rolls, and Melanie wins. Well, sort of.

My husband is a lawyer. He is all about the rules. He breaks out the official rules before every game. He will uphold them to the letter no matter the cost, and he never cheats. He says there is no joy in victory by cheating. He is an uncompromising rule monger. Or so I thought. We found his breaking point yesterday: the tears of devastation from his baby girl. He felt a bit guilty about it afterwards, wondering if in some small way he was robbing our daughter of an important life lesson. Then he rationalized that he was “just finding another way to be like Jesus – breaking the rules in mercy for those he loves.” Oh yes, my dear husband is an excellent lawyer.

Games Without Hunger

guest post by: Jeremy Snyder

(spoiler alert)

Many reviewers have addressed the shortcomings of the Hunger Games film in terms of its watered down brutality. For example, this audition piece of the Rue death scene showcases the kind of emotional depth the film should have provided. By downplaying the kid-on-kid slaughter-fest and retelling the love tragedy between the two lead characters as a cliched romance, the filmmakers have unconsciously become the objects of their own satire. I cannot help but think the irony is lost on them.

The film, and the popular book by Suzanne Collins on which it is based, is set in a post-apocalyptic future in which the remnant of the United States is divided into twelve fenced-off districts ruled by a totalitarian Capitol. Each year, to remind people of its limitless power and the danger of rebellion, the Capitol drafts via lottery two children per district to star on a reality television show in which the object is to kill all the other kids before they kill you. Out of 24 children, only one will live, and the hero among them is Katniss, who volunteers for the games in place of her little sister. The other kid from her district, and her supposed love interest in the arena, is Peeta, the baker’s boy who once saved Katniss from starvation by sneaking her a loaf of bread from the family shop.

Right before the start of the games, Peeta announces during the televised pre-game interviews that he is in love with Katniss, though she never knew it. Katniss, knowing she will have to find a way to kill Peeta if she is to survive the games, despises what she sees as Peeta’s clever attempt to sell a sympathetic story with the viewers. This becomes a major plot device, both in the book and the film, that survival in the games requires well-timed gifts, such as water or medicine, parachuted in by wealthy sponsors. To get sponsors, you have to be likeable. Peeta is charming and charismatic, while Katniss is stubborn, naive, and suspicious.

Throughout the book, Katniss waffles back and forth wondering if Peeta is plotting to kill or help her, and she blindly assumes his overtures of love are a ploy to generate viewer interest and sponsors. With some nudging from her mentor and former games victor, Haymitch, Katniss gives in to the unwritten rules of the show and pretends to be in love with Peeta, saving both of their lives in the process. When the games are over, Peeta discovers to his utter humiliation and dismay that Katniss was only “acting” in love with him, and now their lives will depend on carrying forward a sham romance to appease the Capitol and prevent the execution of their families. Katniss is stuck as a perpetual heart-breaker, Peeta is stuck pretending to be in love with the girl who he desperately wants to love him in truth, and both will be haunted by dreams of slaughtered children.

The filmmakers (game makers?) sanitized not just the brutality, but the lover’s angst that formed the subjective heart of the story. Like the phony Capitol drama, moviegoers will see an apparently mutual romance between the lead characters. Katniss’s paranoia towards Peeta, and her rejection of him at the end of the story, would probably have made her less likeable, and less marketable, to the hoards of teenage girls who have made the movie such a box office success. I’m sure we’ll all sleep much easier, and buy more movie tickets, knowing that forcing poor kids to murder one another for political control and entertainment is actually not all that bad because true love conquers all…

The book tells a much richer, truer story, which I encourage you to read.