So I guess penguins aren't indigenous to Boston in the Summer.
Sometimes I forget to think before I speak. It happens to the best of us, right? I once asked a girl from Arizona “How are the beaches there?” and just last week I absent-mindedly threw a pair of scissors at my husband, which I’ll grant you is more of an acting before thinking episode, but disturbing all the same.
And it gets kind of worse. (Don’t tell anyone. Okay?)
We were driving home from the beach the other day, my happy/tired eyes soaking in the gorgeous image of sunlight dancing across blue water. And that’s when I saw them: three little penguins, floating on a log.
THREE PENGUINS?!?! What the what?!
“Oh my God, look!! There are penguins out there!! They’re just floating on a log, did you see??? Wait, that’s kinda weird, right? Can you stop the car?”
I wanted to get a picture of these miracle penguins, you see. (Well! I knew this was something you’d just have to see, Dear Reader!) And then reality set in, with all its smuggy shame. As in: it's 80 degrees outside and this is Massachusetts. As in, the penguins are plastic, dingleberry.
Hubby looked a little nervous. “Did you really think those penguins were real? They’re fake; they’re plastic.”
The thing is...I did...for a second or two. I did think they were real. Should that make me nervous? I know I’m not getting as much sleep as I used to now that I'm a mommy, but…wow. Just wow.
“Um…maybe don’t tell anyone about this,” I told my husband; the weight of the plastic penguins hanging in the air, mocking me in all their tuxedo cladded whimsy.
“You’re really on a roll, huh?” Hubby was trying to suppress a grin. “Throwing scissors, spotting penguins…”
I think you kind of had to be there. Honestly, those were the most realistic looking fake penguins I’ve ever seen! And for all I knew they were a rare breed of penguin, indigenous to Massachusetts in the summertime. Who knows, maybe they hang out here before migrating to the beaches in Arizona?