so. . back in the fall we took the little girls to the zoo in Chatta-vegas. we were super excited, they'd never been, and we just knew it was going to be a blast. well, it rained the entire time and we spent a big chunk of time huddled in a cave watching some crazy monkeys while keeping out of a lighting storm. and, the Eldest really wanted to see giraffes and of course. . what did the zoo not have?? giraffes. oh well. parents have the best of intentions.
the biggest highlight, however, was Hank the monkey had a birthday and everyone got free cake and punch. the Eldest probably talks about Hank sharing his birthday cake at least once a week. it left a lasting impression on her.
while riding in the van on the way home from playing in the downtown fountain today, she mentioned Hank and going back to see him. well, i'd recently read in the paper that poor ol' Hank had passed on. he was the oldest monkey at the zoo. i didn't want her to think he was still alive, and i didn't want to lead her on when he was actually a pretty dead monkey. so, here is our conversation:
me: "well, actually, Hank died."
pause. pause. pause.
her: "how did he die?"
me: "well, he was pretty old. the oldest monkey around. and i guess he got sick."
her: "who made him die?"
me: "well, no one made him die. it was a natural thing. he just got old."
her: "how old was he?"
me: "um. 96. he was 96 years old."
her: "is his mama dead?"
me: "i'm not sure."
her: "where did he die?"
me: "i guess at the zoo."
her: "no, where did he die?"
me: "i'm sure he died at the zoo. in his little home there."
her: "what did he look like?"
me: "well. i don't know. i guess he looked like. . a monkey."
pause pause pause.
her: "was he hard and rotten?"
well, i guess he was.