That's why I don't go to the zoo

I found these yesterday. My signature item for all those solid black sweater and blue jean outfits in my near future. I've never owned a pair of zebra print footwear. I've veered away from the safari-esque flip flops. But these. These spoke to me.

I bought them at this new boutique in town. It's next door to the shop where Cam gets his hair cut. Every three weeks, during his appointment I usually pop into the boutique just to see what's new. Yesterday, Carlie walked over with me. I was drawn like a moth to a faux fur zebra clog flame. I slipped the display onto my foot as I voraciously moved the stack of yellow shoe boxes searching for my size. Carlie was kneeling in the floor, looking into a display case of costume jewelry.
My child is fashionably mature beyond her 7 years, so I asked her if she liked my new found precious clogs.

"You can wear them to the zoo." was her answer.

The three ladies working in the shop started giggling. The woman behind the counter attempted to make conversation with Carlie as I handed my size 6 to the woman helping me with the shoes.

"Do you like going to the zoo?" she asked Carlie.

"Yes, ma'am. I love the zoo! Especially the time I saw a monkey eating its own poop!"

At that very moment. I died.

I somehow managed to pay for the shoes and make a beeline for the door before the embarrassment literally killed me. I can only imagine how red my face was! Those poor women tried desperately not to roar with laughter. It was all in vain. Bless their hearts! The woman helping me bit her tongue and snickered quietly. The older lady sitting in the office area had the door open and heard the whole thing. She cackled loudly behind us. But atleast I didn't have to face her! They are probably still laughing. And I may never have to courage to go in there again.

But these were worth it.

Almost.