Butt Licking Mountain Lions

Summer is upon us!

Last summer I took the kids to the fish hatchery for story time. The National Forrest Service runs the hatchery and they raise salmon. When we first started going, it was so much fun. Only a few kids came to story time then, but some freaking mom blogs were really plugging the shit out of this place, and it turned into a chaotic mad house. It became overrun, and the story time, followed by a walk out to see the fish with the Ranger, was not fun anymore.

One of the last times we went to the hatchery’s story time the ranger read excerpts from a nature book that is geared toward eight year olds, not a group of toddlers. The book’s theme was how nature can be disgusting. The ranger pulled out a turkey vulture puppet and read the excerpt on turkey vultures, how they eat the dead salmon that die when the water dries up. It seemed interesting and not too gross.

Then she read another excerpt about mountain lions. She informed the little kids that when a baby mountain lion is born it doesn’t poop until its mom licks its butthole enough to bring on the doodoo. I don’t think any of the kids understood what the fuck this kooky lady was talking about.

This concept of “gross” (as in butt licking is gross, especially when its from a familial relation) is not really something a toddler can grasp. They don’t really understand the need to wash their hands, or use toilet paper, so a story about a mom licking it’s baby’s butt to make it poop would not make them think, “gross,” but likely think “moms lick buttonholes?” or maybe, "I didn't know buttonholes get licked?"

Kiki didn’t know what the fuck the lady was talking about because she stole the turkey vulture puppet and was dancing with it in the corner. My friend and I just looked at each other giving a WTF expression; nostrils flared and gigantic eye roll.

This weekend is going to be 75 degrees and that means the hell temperatures of Sacramento summer are just around the corner. The vultures will be feasting on those salmon that never made it to the lake, and all the baby mountain lion butt holes have been licked into activity.

It's funny how, after going to the hatchery 20 times, I can't recall any fun facts about the salmon, but I will probably always remember the butt hole licking tidbit. When I am 123 and living on my compound, I will be sitting in my wheel chair watching the Golden Girls, probably unable to recognize my own children, but I will still have this fucking piece of information imprinted in my brain. 
My daughter will look at me confused, as I call to her, "Dorothy, have you heard about the mountain lions?"

My future (I wish)