When Toddlers Rule the Zoo: A Lesson in Parenting Priorities

Toddlers love two things above all: chaos and the zoo. My son and I had a Dude’s Day at the zoo last week, and it proved to be a lesson in understanding priorities. Specifically, my priorities no longer exist. 

I went into this experience prepared. Snacks? Check. Weather-appropriate clothing? Check. Meticulously planned animal-viewing strategy to ensure an on-time departure for the afternoon nap? Abso-floggin-lutely. 

What I failed to consider is how in almost three years of parenting, not a single plan has survived first contact with the toddler. In the military, we say the enemy gets a vote. Well, toddlers don’t believe in democracy—they rule by the iron fist. 

The Giraffe Pilgrimage

The day started out well. The child woke up excited, provided minimal resistance to breakfast, and loaded into the transport with alacrity upon request. Blasting Johnny Cash and R.L. Burnside as we went—because my toddler is cooler than you—we arrived at the zoo right as it opened. 

Once we arrived, though, I knew the day would take a turn. Our zoo is undergoing some construction to expand exhibits, so they blocked off the main entrance. Instead, we entered through a small gate into the back of the zoo. No issue, I thought. We’ll just do everything in reverse. 

Can one look back on the person they were a week ago and think, Oh, sweet summer child?  One can indeed. 

My son loves giraffes. Allow me to emphasize this fact. My son LOVES giraffes to the extent that when I floated the idea of seeing a different, more logistically appropriate animal first—the penguins, another favorite—his body filled with an incandescent rage fueled by a sense of profound betrayal. 

Giraffes it was. 

The long-necked ungulates occupy the space directly past the main entrance. Thus, we got to trek through the entire zoo to see our spotted friends, passing by almost every exhibit to do so and leaving all signs of other human beings behind. Prompts to stop and look at the other animals were met with derision. Apparently, my son is a fan of Napoleon, who once said “When you set out to take Vienna, take Vienna.”

The giraffes were a hit, of course. And one positive to the forced march he made me endure was that we had the whole exhibit to ourselves. Our zoo has an interactive giraffe experience where you can feed and pet the animals, but my son hasn’t worked up the courage to try again after a giraffe slurped up his arm like it was a bowl of ramen.

As his interest waned, I thought we could get back on track with my original plan. But when I asked if he was ready to see the next animal, he looked me in the eye and said, “I want to see the wolves.”

Ah. The wolves. The ones on the complete opposite side of the zoo from the giraffes. Those wolves? Yes, those wolves. Sweet. 

Marches with Wolves

What followed was my holding action to circumvent toddler logic. Each exhibit we passed became an attempt to lean into the toddler’s inherent desire for stimuli. Look at that bear! Do you see the owl? Isn’t that a cool lizard?!

But suddenly, the toddler who cannot stay focused for half a second at home became the guy from A Beautiful Mind. Wolves were what he came to see, and wolves would not be denied. 

I gave my plan one last shot at the mountain lion exhibit. He loves mountain lions, I love mountain lions, everyone loves mountain lions! It’s also my favorite exhibit at the zoo because of how it’s designed. You get to be inches away from some of the coolest cats around, with just a thin pane of glass between you and death cuddles. What’s not to like?

The answer to that is everything. Upon realizing that these beautiful, amazing creatures were not, in point of fact, wolves, my son lost his mind. He had a fever, and the only prescription was the Mexican Gray Wolf. 

I waved the white flag and beelined for the wolves. Mercy of mercies, the wolves happened to be asleep right near the viewing area—not a guarantee with these guys, who take great pleasure in hiding from onlookers. 

My mission accomplished, I sat back and appreciated the majesty of these graceful quadrupeds. They’re the most endangered subspecies of wolf, you know, and something interesting about them is—

“I want to see the penguins.”

I looked at my watch. Not ten seconds had elapsed since arriving at the wolves’ den. I looked at my toddler, my eyes pleading. He looked back with iron in his gaze, and penguins on his mind. 

So I turned the stroller around, and we walked back to the entrance to see the penguins. 

Priorities, Schmiorities

Though the day did not turn out as planned, it ended up where it needed to. Sure, a lot of cool animals got ignored, but my son and I got to spend time together appreciating some of the wonders of our world. I saw his face light up seeing giraffes, his excitement when the wolves were sleeping just feet away, and his little penguin waddle as they glided through the water behind him. 

You’d think I’d have learned by now that while parents plan, toddlers laugh, but I still cling to that hope that one day, we can stick to a schedule. But perhaps the more important lesson to learn is that in the end, time spent together is time well spent. 

But next time, we’re going to see some mountain lions.