A citizen of the world.

I want to be a citizen of the world. I was watching Oprah the other night while putting Jack to sleep. It was her final season premiere and they had a video clip of John Travolta toasting to Oprah many years ago. He began with, "You are a citizen of the world."

And I wonder, why are we American citizens or Icelandic citizens or African American. Aren't we all citizens of the world? Do we have to lay down lines of duct tape and make boundaries?You can't come onto my side, because you're not American. And I am because I was here first!

I think it all sounds toddler-ish. And not even, because Jack will share his space with anyone, especially if they bring chocolate.

So, I declare myself a citizen of the world, a worldly citizen. I will go places. I will take Jack. He will learn English and Spanish and Portuguese and Icelandic, hopefully. I will not promote or engage or encourage or feel proud that we are in a war with our fellow citizens. I want no part of it.

We took Jack on his first trip to the zoo. We bought our tickets, got our hands stamped and grabbed a map. Apparently, we had no business with a map, as our little navigator was a pro with a map. He snatched it out of our hands and led the way.

Is it odd to envy the eyelashes of a llama? Couldn't we swap for cellulite and stretch-marks?

Llamas love woodchips. This is not a weird pregnant craving, like the one that I had at midnight last night for tangerines. I would have driven anywhere to find them, but satiated my insanity with a quart of orange juice.

Yes he is strong, as demonstrated in my previous post.

But this is actually a very heavy umbrella. There was some assistance behind the scenes. Oh, and can I tell you how he says umbrella? I really need to record it on video. He sticks his finger in his mouth, says um and then pulls his finger out fast so that his lips roll and make a brr sound, then says uh. He does this quickly. Sounds like um-brr-ah. And I think this is an innovative way for him to get a tough word out.

These goats would jump the fence for your attention if they could. And what sneaks they are. I did a crazy, backward stumble over the stroller and into Jose, losing a flip flop with my heart racing when one snuck up on me. They're temptation: little poopy looking pellets. They have no fear.

When this goat-tee bearing beast hopped onto the fence for all of Jose's goods, Jack found goat toes, tickle tickle.

My camera battery charger stopped working, so we had to return the whole camera for a new package, one that I still need to put together. I'm going to take a photo class sometime in the next couple of weeks and save up for a wide angle lens. There is much to learn.

I'm going to go find my little citizen of the world and give him lots of kisses.