The C Word and The Z Word

We now have to spell a few words around here- cheese and zoo.
Let's start with the longest runnning spelled word- ZOO. The mention of the Zoo will make Eloise start to to shake her head NO, whine, swat at me and want to get picked up. It all started a few weeks ago when we were meeting another set of triplets at the zoo. It is a perfect example of how one of our ordinary days could go terribly wrong.
I was supposed to meet our friends at the penguins at 10. I normally don't have a problem getting the kids out of the house by myself but I get a little anxious if we have to be somewhere at a specific time. I am very punctual. Not as punctual as Rich who if we have an invitation to an event or party will want to be there at the exact minute the invitation states. At his insistence we have been the first ones to a company holiday party. First ones. Out of like 200 people. Totally embarrassing. Anyway, I like to be on time. Having kids, or triplets in my case is not an excuse to be late. It's not like I woke up that morning and was like, "Holy smokes, where did these kids come from? How am I ever going to get out the door?" I know what it takes it get out of the house and I prepare for it. But things like overflowing poop diapers as we are going out to the car and runaway dogs can make me a little nervous that I'm going to be late.
Anyway it was 9:55 as we were pulling up to the Zoo entrance and I had a vision in my head that as I was putting the kids in the van that morning I was stepping around the choo-choo wagon. The exact choo-choo wagon I was supposed to be using to pull the kids around.
After calling the other mom to say I had to turn around and would be back in 30 minutes, I called Rich. We ALWAYS have some sort of kid containment system in the car whether it be one of the two strollers or the wagon. Why was it out? Because Rich had taken his bike to the bike shop. So Rich got an ear full as I was driving like a madwoman back home. Of course it wasn't his fault but at that moment it most certainly wasn't MY fault. I apologized later.
After all of that, we made it to the Zoo about 40 minutes late, met our friends and walked to the Family Farm. After about 2 minutes of taking in the gentle mooing and swaying of cow tails, Eloise lost it. That was it. I had to carry that little clinging screaming monkey while pulling the wagon up and down hills. No animal would soothe her. In fact each new animal elevated her panic level. After about 35 minutes I had to call it quits. I was sweating and shaking from the effort.
So ever since then, the Z-word has been blocked from our vocabulary. She is slowly warming up to the idea that giraffes might live someplace else besides the wall in her bedroom, but that is as far as it goes. Guess that year long ZOO pass was a super duper good investment.
The other spelled word is CHEESE. Remember I how cute I thought it was that Addy loved to say the word cheese? Not so cute anymore. She is cheese crazy and drives me crazy while I'm making meals demanding cheese. She climbs up a chair and points to the table saying, "Cheeeeeese, cheeeeese, cheese, cheeeeeeese." She even has the nerve to eat a full meal, go play for a while and when I'm almost done cleaning the kitchen she figures out that I'm still in the kitchen, comes back in and the whole process starts over again. I understand that she inherited some WI farm family genes and cheese is really really good and I know my sister Sarah would disagree with me because she's as cheese crazy as Addy but a full cheese diet at some point is going to lead to problems. Like a clog. That's the last thing we need around here. That and another dog.
This morning she was the first one dressed and the minute she was dressed she went running to the bedroom door trying to go downstairs yelling, "cheese." Really? Give me a break. Then as we were getting really to go on a walk she started yelling for cheese again and telling me it was "cold." It hit me. She was saying, "shoes" not cheese. She needed shoes because it was cold outside. So now anytime she is at the table, I can assume she is saying cheese and every other time it is shoes.
Unless is it time to eat and the food is ready and waiting on the table, I dare not mention that we are having Mac n' C-H-E-E-S-E or grilled C-H-E-E-S-E. In the meantime I'm just stocking up the fridge and trying to steer her towards the colby and cheedar. Thanks Mom for turning her on to the $22.99 per lb parmigiano reggiano and leaving a chunk for us. She likes that as a snack with pears. We can't afford not to spell cheese.