Recently our family went to the Zoo. The Zoo is normally a place our family loves, and we are regular visitors. Little Miss Adorable loves the monkeys, Mr. Sensitive loves the reptiles and insects, and Baby Dunk wanders around yelling, “Wow! Look at that! See!” at everything.
One of our bedtime story choices is a field guide to the Zoo, detailing the lives and habits of the many plants and animals there. (Who knew there were so many different kinds of marmosets?) Hubby and I enjoy the walk around the expansive zoo grounds, pushing our overloaded strollers from pavilion to pavilion. We go to the Zoo in every season, hiding in lush tropical pavilions in the Winter and picnicking on the grass in Spring and Fall. We play in the splash pad in the hot Summer. In short, we love the Zoo.
Apparently so does the entire city of Toronto. Because they were all at the Zoo, with us on our last visit.
While we waited for Hubby to sort out a rental of a second stroller (an essential for 3 semi-walkers and all our stuff) the kids and I sat in a picnic area and tried to eat some snacks. We made an unfortunate choice in location, because we were surrounded by most of the other Zoo visitors, all chatting and eating their meals too. Adults talking, kids laughing, babies crying, chairs scraping on pavement. The noise was deafening. I soon had a headache, and Mr. Sensitive was spun out of control. He ate nothing, but ended up in full sensory overload where he hid in a small forested area, refusing to leave.
Attempting to take him through a small, quiet pavilion that showcased fish, insects and reptiles (see, we were thinking of quiet and hooking in his interests) resulted in him refusing to leave the pavilion, grabbing the doors and wailing, “I don’t want to leave the exhibit!” Immediately upon exit he hid in the forest again.
By the end of the day, Little Miss Adorable did see the monkeys. And Baby Dunk did wander around saying, “Wow! Look at that!” at the many different animals the Zoo has. And Hubby and I spent two hours hanging out in a forested picnic area waiting for Mr. Sensitive to return to normal. Or at least become a five year old we could reason with.