Yesterday you and I made our first summer trip to the zoo. I wasn't sure how it would be--last year, we had a pretty solid routine of seeing the African Forest trail, then the Farm, then the splash pad followed by lunch at the Russian Coast food stand. This year, since I don't have a job for the fall, we're trying to save some money so I packed a lunch. And you have opinions, kiddo. Big opinions. You wanted to see the "ghosts" (goats) first. You also wanted to see a lion (which we don't have at our zoo), but you did not want to see a tiger (too scary). (We did see the tiger; he ran towards you and you jumped and clapped and weren't scared at all.)
So we went to see the goats at the Family Farm, the most remote location in the zoo. On the way we stopped at a playground, the tiger den, the moose and caribou pens (you later said that your favorite animal was the moose), and then a second playground.
Here's where it gets interesting.
We were playing in the playground, and I was getting very irritated with all of the big kids who were coming in and tackling each other, getting in the way of you littler guys. So when a boy came tearing into the playground screaming, I was annoyed at first. More big kids? Come on, let the little ones just play! Then I saw his face. He was genuinely terrified. And when I looked to see what had scared him so much, I understood: a Mexican grey wolf was coming up from behind him. Nothing malicious, just cantering behind on his way to freedom. My first instinct was to point out to you that there was a wolf; then I came to my senses and pulled you into the bathroom, away from the wolf and whatever might happen next. When we emerged, the wolf had gone down another trail, to liberate some friends, I would imagine, and we headed to the farm's grain elevator, where we were kept for 10 minutes until the wolf had been...well, until the wolf had been put down, sadly. But you and I didn't know that, and we sang "Old McDonald," planned out the animals we would see, and learned about soy beans and sugar beets.
The rest of our day was spectacularly uneventful. You fed the "ghosts" and saw the dairy cattle. You went to the splash pad and emulated the older boys--again with the older boys--by putting your head directly into the water fountain so that only your hair would get wet. You stood over deceitfully waterless fountains until a spring would pop up and you would run away, scream-laughing.
When it was time to eat lunch, you didn't remember that last year we would treat ourselves to cheeseburgers and french fries; instead, you picked out a table, got in the chair, and made slow work of your carrots and peanut butter sandwich. Your chips were okay; the strawberry yogurt I packed was "yucky, Mommy." You ate only the peanut butter from your sandwich, showing me your newest peanut butter method of rubbing some on your thumb and licking it off.
We quietly went home and you napped deeply and woke up screaming, but happy enough to sit with your Dad and watch Diego.
Happy first day at the zoo, Connor. Summer must be here.
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