Toads-in-the-Hole

Last weekend, we drove down to Omaha to visit our friends Brooke and Seeger and to visit the world-famous Henry Doorly Zoo.

We weren’t quite sure what to expect from our zoo experience as we unloaded our packed car with all of our baby essentials: jogger stroller, auxiliary diapers, Goldfish, sunscreen, and our trusty water bottle. Looking around the packed parking lot, we noted all of the other families, lugging, carrying, pushing, and chasing kids of varying ages toward the long line at the entrance. We put one foot in front of the other and stepped into the sweating, screaming throng of animal excitement.

Fortified after a pleasant hillside picnic, we began our adventure, weaving the jogger in and out of crowds, buckling and unbuckling Adelaide so she could get a better view of the sunbear or the hippos, and wishing that we had taken the time to learn some signs to better describe the animals to Adelaide. Still, Adelaide did not seem to mind the chaos of the day, seeming nonplussed at the pacing Indochine tiger or shrugging at the panting polar bears, but viewing the animals with a certain sort of laissez-faire … As if to say, “Ah, yes, Gorilla gorilla gorilla … Well, there’s that then.”