They Call Him Flipper, Flipper...

Oh, my, if this didn't make me want to revisit my desire to be a dolphin trainer, I don't know what could.

And if getting a degree in Marine Biology is a requirement (uh, do you have to take science classes to get that?), then could I at least be that girl who stands next to the dolphin pool in the shade with a mic and every 27 seconds reminds dolphin enthusiasts not to lean too far over the wall? I'm pretty sure that doesn't require a degree. Just some sunscreen and some ability to sound assertive even while repeating the same obvious message 258 times a day.

The dolphin interaction was possibly my favorite part of Sea World. It was definitely the part I was most looking forward to. I was so excited to see the boys experience dolphins up close. Aside from paying $12 for 11 pieces of fish so we could own the opportunity to hand feed them (next time I am so sneaking in my own can of anchovies and if you don't believe me, oh how you don't know me), it was incredible to be in reach of such beautiful, sweet creatures. I swear, they wear a permanent smile on their cute little snouts. It was all I could do not to jump right in their pool and try to recreate what we'd seen in the dolphin performance three days before.

Except for the part where I'm pretty sure it would cause psychological harm for my kids to see Mommy get tasered and arrested because I think that could be the other reason that girl with the mic hangs around the dolphin pool.

She don't want no people trying to go all Flipper on her.

And, anyhow, that being tasered thing ain't no way to wrap up a vacation.

One thing's for sure, I definitely don't have a calling to work with these creatures...

The one in the background, not those in the foreground. I'll keep those. See that creepy gray creature swimming with the tank diver? I think that tank diver must've drawn the short straw that day. Because who calls home and says, "Hey, Mama! I got me a promotion! I spent four years of your money to earn my Marine Biology degree just so I can be eaten to death by a shark!"

Ask me how I would never want to die and being eaten alive by a shark is in my top three. Always. Actually, my answer the last time this came up was, "Experiencing a lot of turbulence right before my plane plunges into the sea. I survive for days while my fellow passengers are eaten alive and while I get sun blisters on my lips. Eventually, I get eaten, too."

THAT is my worst fear. Ooh, how I shudder.

It was Shark Week on the Discovery Channel while we were in San Antonio and I spent a good part of one day, sick and stuck at the hotel, watching every shark show that came on. Even after all those shows, I couldn't tell you what kind this shark is, but I can tell you that bull sharks can transition to fresh water habitats (which, after hearing that, I've pretty much limited myself and my offspring to jaunts in the neighborhood pool and some slip n slide) and that mako sharks wear smiles on their faces.

But not because they are friendly like our smiling dolphin friends. But because their teeth are so large they don't fit in their mouth and because they want to eat you.

Okay, so Discovery didn't go that far, but still. I may not have a big degree in Marine stuff, but I do have some deductive reasoning in me. As in, big teeth on a shark means big bite out of my torso. I see it in their beady little eyes. It's like I'm anointed or something. The Holy Spirit came upon me and told me I would not want to mess with a shark. Or feed it $12 fish and stroke its snout.

I just hope the Holy Spirit told that diver in the tank to pack himself some heat. As in, a taser gun. Do they teach that in Marine Biology?