A vignette

It was halfway into a week of family vacation, and we found ourselves at a petting zoo. It was standard fare, the scent of hay and animal feces in the air as young children awkwardly petted and poked skittish goats and rabbits. My family dispersed, each strolling around seeking out the perfect dirty animal we'd like to spend a precious five minutes with. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, my mind and thoughts drifting to what we might be eating for lunch that day as well as how divine I looked in my knee-length blue and white paisley culottes. You know, that clothing invention that miraculously merges shorts and a skirt. As the thoughts swirled about my mind, I found myself near a grey and black goat with matted hair and one misshapen ear. Its glassy black eyes were dull and unblinking as it slowly munched and munched on some grassy hay.

"I'm glad I'm not a goat. What a sad existence,"

thought I, and adjusted my stance away from him with an air of superiority. Moments later, I felt a light but increasingly stronger pressure pulling at my culottes. I looked down in annoyance only to find Mr. Grey and Black eating my beloved culottes! All my pride and courage left me in an instant and a panic flashed through my veins. Paralyzed, I just stared at the goat as more and more of my culottes disappeared into his munching mouth. Finally, I did what every child has been programmed to do from the beginning of time...

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I now had the attention of every female above the age of 25, but only one came running. She knew her daughter's shrill voice and had put on her first responder hat. She quickly summed up the situation and in one fluid motion shoved that dirty animal away and extracted my clothing from its mouth. She stood back triumphantly, knowing she had saved the day. I stood speechless, thankful to her for saving me yet again and thankful my heart rate was slowing to normal. The goat stood munching, munching, munching, unaware of the trauma he'd just caused. The intensity of the situation dropped to a manageable level as I realized with disgust that my culottes were now slimy and green. My mother also came back down to earth at that moment and said,

"Well, I guess we better get you cleaned up. Why did you just stand there?"

It was an exhortation and a gentle rebuke, one that I will never forget. For after my mother worked her mother cleaning magic on my culottes, I vowed I would never again stand helpless and let a goat get the best of me.