Even the animals ridicule us.

We took the kids to the zoo today. Even though it snowed two days ago, we saw lots and lots of these buds:

And also some of these:

The kids enjoyed themselves, despite the fact that Quinn spent the entire trip there telling us how afraid he was of elephants, and how he refused, REFUSED BY GOD, to look at them. As we pulled into the parking lot, Bryce said, "you know what I want to see first? The elephants." Yeah. Manipulative much?

For the record, even though Bryce is destined to be the ruler of a small (hopefully sparsely populated) planet, we did not succumb to his cruel demands. We forced him to see all manner of other boring animals first, like these:

And these:

Then we came across the tortoises, which were being kept in the climate-controlled fake beach since it was too cool outside for them today. The kids got a better view of the bronze tortoise statue in front of the exhibit, but Bryce was disgusted by the single splat of bird poop on its shell, so the experience was kind of ruined for everyone, as you can see by the critical expressions and Quinn's - what? fear? curiosity?

After that, something strange started happening. Was it some sort of metaphysical phenomena wherein all of the creatures within the city zoo felt a simultaneous connection to their observers, and in one magical hour learned universal communication skills transcending all genetic, geographic, and cultural barriers? I don't know, but Quinn was involved somehow:

I mean, WHAT is with the tongues, creatures? Quinn, what are you telling them? There will be no gibbon escapes from this zoo, young man. Not on my watch.