Zoo Tycoon, indeed.

My straight A little reader girl recently got a PC game called Zoo Tycoon 2 (actually, not too recently, since I think she's had it about six months) that she's addicted to. Chad's home on leave (he's actually watching the Suns game right now so I'm taking a tiny break to blog and have some ME time). He had a computer snafu while in Iraq and ended up buying himself a new computer but then long story short ended up with two functioning laptops. Not-spoiled-at-all Only Child Emma inherited Daddy's old laptop a few days ago when he brought it home so she decided to load Zoo Tycoon onto her very own computer. Unfortunately, this means that any previous zoos she's saved didn't go with the new computer, so she had to start all over from ground zero and build new zoos. It's kind of like a SIMS game, with patrons whining that they need more bathrooms, that they don't like the layout of the zoo, blah blah blah and the goal of the game is to make a zoo that's pleasing to the public and makes money. (Emma's found a cheat that gives her unlimited money, though, so I guess her only goal is to make sure that the patrons don't end up pooping where they shouldn't.)

ANYWAY.

A few minutes ago I hear insane laughing coming from her room and as I open the door to help her pack for our trip to Disneyland I see that she's rolling on the floor, laughing so hard that no sound except for a high-pitched wheeze is coming out of her.

"MOM! I made a fence *hahahaaaa* and then I trapped all the visitors inside it! And then I put a LION in there! You should have....*gasp*seen them *wheeze* ru-*wheeze*-uun! Some even jumped over the fence! LOOK! Ahahahaaaaa!!!" and she points to about twenty tiny people running inside of a fence, their arms flailing in the air, being chased by a very angry little pixelated lion. A bubble pops up above one little dark-haired boy's head: "I don't like this zoo."

It reminded me so much of the time that my friend Jamie and I first played my new SIMS game and her character ended up on fire in the kitchen and we sat and laughed, with tears streaming down our faces, at her screaming, burning little fake person who was too stupid to stop running and/or call the fire department on her own. A fake person that may or may not have been named after someone we hated in high school.

Sure, snuggling and first steps and first teeth are all warm, fuzzy, wonderful parts of being a parent. And of course I cried her first day of kindergarten. But nobody can put a price tag on watching your kid find her evil little sense of humor.