Buh-bye Jagoouah

Recently, we completed a rite of passage of nearly ever family with kids. We have become official, card-carrying members of the Los Angeles Zoo.

It all happened on Easter Sunday. Having little first-hand experience with Easter, I imagined it as a day of churching and picnic-ing with the family, looking for eggs, and stuffing yourself with candy until you were sick. Certainly not a day of going to the zoo. And after confirming they were open, we packed up 3/4 of our family and headed off.

I first suspected my miscalculation as we entered the parking lot only to see a serpentine line of cars inching their way past florescent vest-clad parking attendants. Bree, who is not a fan of crowds, and had been very much on the fence about this trip to begin with glared and seethed noticeably in his seat. But, you don't just drive a 19-month-old out for half an hour only to turn around and go home so we were stuck.

Parking didn't end up being nearly as dramatic as it had first appeared and with renewed hope, we loped down to the main entrance. Only to be confronted with a line of approximately 150 people, none of whom had gotten the "go to church and picnic on Easter" memo. Oh, and the register was only taking cash - whether out of deference for the Resurrection, or simply because the credit card swipey thing was down, I'll never know.

But again, being a crafty chick, who was not about to give Bree the satisfaction of going home empty-handed, I looked to and quickly found the beacon of hope - the Membership Signup desk. There was no line there. And a fully operational credit card machine. Any thoughts about giving the zoo a test run before committing to a year of visits went out the window. If Otter was terrified by a face-to-face confrontation with a wild animal, so be it. So, swiping my card, free plush gorilla in hand, Bree, Otter and I entered the zoo.

And...

She loved it! The kangaroos (though possibly dead, by Bree's and my estimation) seemed to fascinate. The tigers and meercats, pretty solid. But the crown went to the jaguar, who, agitated for some reason, was pacing his enclosure with a barely concealed desire to rip anyone close enough limb to limb. This animal, large enough to swallow Otter without really having to chew, instantly stole her heart, and she sat transfixed as he did his paces. In an effort to avoid a melt-down, we engaged Otter with saying goodbye to the jaguar as we turned to go.

Later that night, as I tucked her into bed, a bleary looking girl looked up at me, completely over-stimulated by her day. "Buh-bye jagoouah," she said. "Buh-bye."