Welcome to the KingZoo and Funny Farm, where we learn to live, laugh, and love together. Here you'll find snippets of life in our zoo, parenting tips we've learned along the way, reflections on shining God's light in this world, passions in the realm of orphan care, and our journey as parents of a visually impaired child with sensory processing disorder. Have fun!

Monday, January 25, 2016


I sat in a meeting a few weeks ago and the woman across from me had a hole in her jeans. It wasn't the kind that came with the jeans, the kind that you pay to find in them. This hole came from wear. The kind that you can patch. (Although I do think some people should patch the ones that come that way from the manufacturer but that just shows my age.) I really wanted to go up to her and ask permission to put a cute patch on her knee.

I restrained myself.

But my children, they don't have a choice.

A hole = A patch.

2 holes = 2 patches.

3 holes = The jeans would be better off in a quilt. Or bib. Or whatever else I find to make.

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