[title subtitle=”WORDS: Stoney Stamper
IMAGES: courtesy Stoney and April Stamper”][/title]
Change is inevitable. Sometimes, change is easy, and other times it is very, very hard. It was in 2011 that my wife, April, and I decided to spend the rest of our lives together, to combine our families and become one. She had two daughters, and although I loved them, and they loved me (mostly), it was still a hard adjustment for all of us to make.
And then, shortly thereafter, I had a great job opportunity offered to me. The only problem was, the opportunity was in Texas. After a lot of discussion, worry and debate, we decided that the job was the best thing for our family. So, that spring I moved by myself to Tyler, Texas and got the house ready. The girls finished out their school year in Oklahoma, and then April, Abby and Emma, fairly reluctantly, became citizens of the state of Texas, in May.
It was a traumatic thing, moving them away from their home, their school, their friends and family. And not just for the girls. April had quite a bit of adjusting to do as well. To top it all off, we had just learned that she was pregnant. To say that there was a lot of tension and stress flowing through our little home would be quite an understatement.
To try and make the move as easy as possible, I was pretty much willing to do anything or go anywhere, if I thought they might enjoy it. So when I saw the sign for a nearby safari park, I knew that it was something that all my animal loving girls would like.
So one hot, muggy Saturday afternoon, we made the thirty mile drive to this drive-through zoo. I’d been to one of those before, but not since I was a little kid. And frankly, there were a few traumatizing events that happened then, too. So, I’m not sure what it was that made me think that this time would be any different.
However, I was so happy that the girls were finally with me in Texas, and I wanted to see them laugh and be happy. So, we checked in at the office. I paid for our tickets, bought us each a bag of food for the animals, and we made our merry way into the happy land of goats, deer, deer, goats, a few cows, some ill-tempered Sicilian donkeys, goats, deer, buffalo, and maybe a few pigs. And some goats and deer. Seriously, like, it was mostly goats and deer. Ok, you get it.
Anyhoo, there were also some llamas. Some stupid, sorry, no-count llamas. And llamas are jerks, you guys. Huge jerks.
As we approached the llama area in my brand new truck, they quickly perked up, looking in our direction, and then all three of them came hurriedly towards us at a high lope. The girls oohed and awed over the cute little llamas. “Oh look at them! They’re so cute! Look at their ears, they’re so big! Look how long their eyelashes are! Oh, I’m gonna feed them!”
I’ve always been pretty good at doing different, funny voices, so I began talking the way I thought a llama would, just saying silly things that would make the girls laugh. And man, they were laughing. I felt great. They’re having such a fun time, I thought. They’re so happy, I thought. Way to go, Stone, I said to myself.
As the girls began to feed them, it was easy to see that there was definitely an alpha in the pack. He made a funny hissing noise that the girls thought was so cute. He pinned his ears back, and would stick his head through the window to get the food. Having been around horses all my life, I could tell a ticked off animal when I saw one. And he definitely was. I told the girls to be careful. I told them he was about to get ignorant. But no one listens to me. I’m just their chauffeur. And arm candy.
I rolled my window up when he came around to my side, because I’m smart. Even with their heckling (mainly April’s) I would not roll it down.“Girls,” I said, “he’s not playing. I’m telling you, he’s getting ready to throw a fit.” To which April replied, “Oh, quit being such a baby!” She paid for that silly remark. Unfortunately, we all had to pay for it with her.
This big llama began to butt his head against my closed window, yet still no one heeded my warnings. He went around to April’s side, and hissed. Then she gave him some food. He took it, and hissed again. I said “Roll your window up!” To which she replied, “He’s just playing!”
And that’s when it happened. He unleashed the most wretched combination of bodily functions that have ever been combined on this earth. It was a massive conglomeration of a gassy, belching cough that was filled with puke, and slimy green goo, and he topped it off with a hair-raising scream at the end. All of this, no more than three inches from April’s face.
In an instant, we’d gone from having a blast to one of the worst days of my life. There was awful green stuff all over everything. April had her hands over her slime-covered face, and had yet to make a sound. I blacked out. I do not know what I said, but I expect it wasn’t PG. I didn’t know if April was laughing, or crying. And frankly, I don’t think she knew.
The smell was, simply put, unbearable. This horrible green substance was all over the inside of my windshield, on my dash, covering my rear view mirror to the point that you could not see anything in it. My GPS screen, yep, covered. Steering wheel, check. Sun visors, check. My plaid khaki golf shorts? Slimed. My face, my neck, my ears. Everywhere.
All this time, April had yet to look out from her hands. The girls were in the backseat, laughing as if they have just witnessed the funniest thing that has ever happened, and the cab of the truck could not have smelled worse even if the llama had done what he had done inside the cab. April uncovered her face, and I couldn’t really get a grasp of her emotions. She definitely wanted to cry. But she also knew that this was pretty funny. Her hair was just mangled in this stuff that came out of the llama. And the truck looked like a bomb went off inside of it.
Well, here was our main problem. We couldn’t get out o! I’ve never had to fight the urge to jump out of my truck so bad. But we’re surrounded by llamas. Ticked off llamas. I began to drive away, and they followed us. They kept coming and they wouldn’t leave us alone. I drove faster. They ran faster. We were bouncing around the cab as I drove forty miles an hour across a pasture. I felt like I should be singing Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
But we finally get rid of them. We were free! I bailed out of the truck, wiping this awful mess off of my body. I don’t think I could’ve felt dirtier if I’d been that guy that fell in the state park port-a-potty, trying to get his wallet. It was awful. The girls were still laughing. April was still getting her wits about her, trying to decide just exactly how upset she actually was. My new truck had been defiled. And I was already making plans in my head to trade it off.
So, as we were leaving, we noticed another car pulling into the llama area. We watched those crazy animals take advantage of another unsuspecting family. And then we laughed and laughed. It was such a long drive home. The smell was something I’ll never ever get out of my head.
And that’s the story of our first Family Day. Starting out, I wanted a fun, memorable day that the girls would never forget. And I promise you, none of us ever will.
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Stoney Stamper is the author of the popular parenting blog, The Daddy Diaries. He and his wife April have three daughters: Abby, Emma and Gracee. Originally from northeast Oklahoma, the Stampers now live in Tyler, Texas. For your daily dose of The Daddy Diaries, visit Stoney on Facebook or on his website, thedaddydiaries.net.
