Now that's a log!

A while back I may have mentioned my in-laws accident-prone visits. So we have taken it upon ourselves to pack up our green Ford Taurus with various and sundry items needed to haul a carsick 2 year old, a caffeine blasted Dr Science, and a comatose mother over the hills and dales of I84 through the intermidible state of Connecticut, over the Tappanzee, and into the concrete wilds of New Jersey.

This time on the way down, we had a lovely torrential downpour that started just after Hartford, and suddenly slowed to a drizzle as we pulled off the NJ Turnpike at exit 4. It was only 3 in the morning. And we had only one glow-in-the-dark vomitous explosion from the Impling somewhere on the river pretending to be the Turnpike. As I wiped her down and tucked her back in, she looked at me with a half smile and said,

“How does an ewephant go?

“HOOM-prah HOOM-prah!”

You got it, peanut.

It was a wonderful weekend, and a sad one, but not, for a change, because of any drama being played out by the family. Only the sadness of change, of a father growing old, and beginning to deal practically with his mortality. The sadness of a friend's long relationship changing for the worse, the sadness of not having the time we would like to have together with people we love.

But it was much more fun than not. We slept late, watched the Impling play with Oma, and begin to sing the Dutch songs Oma sang to her. Impling dubbed one room the Castle Room, as this is where the old 1970's Fisher Price Castle lives while we visit, complete with pink dragon, and a tail-less, crippled horse who still manages to haul the carriage and carry the princess off to adventure.

On Tuesday, we went to the Camden Aquarium. For those not in the know, it has (in addition to the requisite fish and sea dragons) penguins, seals, a sea lion or so, lots of sharks (including a very cool underwater glass tunnel that allows the sharks to swim over you) and two hippos.

The Impling had never actually seen a hippo. So we ventured forth, reciting that all time classic “Hippos go Berserk” line by line, while tracking the huge beasts as they dived into the water for a morning snooze. We walked down the slope to the underwater viewing area and reached it just at a momentous moment. The water was suddenly clouded with brown, and bits of grass, and what can only be described as “a log”. The Impling grinned and pointed with unabashed glee.

“Hippo made a BIG poop! FUNNee!”

The surrounding toddlers were rolling in hysterics (and the parents couldn't help laughing either). An older couple, obviously not educated in the finer comedic nuances of hippo poop, stared at us in barely disguised disdain.

“what ARE you teaching them?” the look said, and they huffily rose from their front row seats and left them to a more appreciative audience.

Impling pointed and laughed again again, and I crouched down beside her in solidarity.

“That's right sweetie, hippo just dumped a BIG load!” and glanced with a smirk at the hastily retreating couple. I couldn't help myself. I swear.

The log dissolved almost instantaneously, much to the disappointment of Dr. Science, who arrived a split second later. We communed with the now sleeping hippos a while longer, then went in search of bluer waters. Sharks and puffers and stingrays oh my!

There is really nothing to relate further that can surpass the wondrousness of hippo poop, so I won't try.

Here are some gratuitous Impling shots instead. And one shark. And one Impling pretending to be a shark. Or a hippo. Enjoy!