Coming Back to Haunt

Growing up my Mom always told me I would make a great teacher because I am so patient with little kids. (WHAT?!) I think this is because I coached volleyball, gave the neighborhood(loose interpretation) kids rides on my pony, and tutored a bit in my spare time. Unfortunately, those of you who REALLY know me (Sorry, Mom, wishful thinking) know that I can't stand children - especially those of people who clearly can't handle them - and only partook in the above activities because I like money and having people in the neighborhood like me. In fact, when a random minivan-load of kids would stop in the driveway with hopes of a ride on Sugar Babe (my pony, may she rest in peace), I often considered whether I would rather lead those precious little idiots around in the hot sun for an hour while they kicked and yelled at poor Shugie or gnaw off my own arm. It was really a toss-up.

This seems like a horrible confession, I realize, but it is needed to fully understand my mindset in the following tale.

It all began this summer when the Dwyer clan met for our yearly reunion in the Samford, CT/New York City area. I spent most of the time at my uncle's house, drink in hand, by the pool, looking out over the ocean as anyone would expect from me. One day, however, I ventured into the City with my uncle, aunt, other uncle, mom, dad, brother, and little cousin to go to the Natural History Museum. Even though the excursion was obviously more geared towards the interests of my ten-year-old cousin, David, it is common knowledge that I love all woodland creatures, so a trip to a gallery of long-dead safari furriness was well worth the 50 min drive into the city.

What I failed to consider, however, was that even I could not stare at wonders such as of a stuffed baby baboon or a delicately placed weasel among the savannah animals for more than 20 minutes or so. This left the whole rest of the day to wander around with the posse and little David.

Let me say before I continue, that I love my cousin. He is absolutely a boy genius and is one of the coolest little kids I know, but as I spend 0% of my life with people his age, I was absolutely ill-equipped for the excitement and question-bombardment that ensued that day.

I am ashamed to say that after a short time of seriously fielding all of his inquiries regarding the various forms of life present in each an every room of the African Animals exhibit, then the Lizards and Snakes displays, then the Dinosaurs, and so on an so on, I could no longer invest any more effort in the field trip. By the time we reached the Under the Sea exhibits, I was answering each "What is that?" or "But why?" with whatever bullshit my little heart desired. It was really quite fun. He was giggling and I was spewing off nonsense for the rest of our visit to the museum.

I had completely forgotten about this experience until two weeks ago.

I was again up in Stamford, CT visiting my uncle, and the smaller version of the Dwyer clan present that weekend was walking into the Kona Grill for a nice dinner. I thought my cousin was leading the way to the table when I realized that he had completely lost the waitress he was following and was almost stopped, wonderstruck, in front of a large aquarium. With some prodding from my aunt, he made it to the table but was still staring at the swimming wildlife when we began to seat ourselves. Finally, he looks at me and the rest of the family, points at the aquarium and says, "Hey look! Its a Giant Sea Squirrel!!"

Busted.

I realized by the look of excitement coming from David's face and the look of confusion coming from my uncle's face that my shenanigans in the museum were coming back to haunt me. Either I am the only marine biologist in the world that knows the true identity of a nurse shark, or I'm a horrible big cousin. Either way, I really wonder how many people David has since educated about Giant Sea Squirrels or the Air Beaver in the months since.

My bad.





Giant Sea Squirrel