Where the Wild Things Are

As you all know, our family has become a bunch of avid animal watchers. Despite my morbid thoughts and outrageous comments about the imagined behind the scenes happenings, I have grown quite fond of our local zoo. Today my mom, myself, and the baby headed to Los Angeles to catch a glimpse of the gorillas, lions, and of course, the giraffes. It was amazing. Three generations of women together watching the critters, as they watched back, some with equal enthusiasm, but most with much less.

Today the 2 1/2 year-old baby gorilla sat directly in front of the glass enclosure and pounded loudly on the walls with delight, as at least seven 1-2 year old baby humans pounded back. After about 20 minutes of play each toddler, human and other, ran back to their perspective mama, grandma, or caretaker. I just dared anyone to attempt to wipe the smile off of my face.

Then to the lions. After passing the lions once previously, we heard roaring from a short distance away. We turned immediately, only to find a large male lion roaring his terrible roars and gnashing his terrible teeth. And much like one of those annoying mothers, who are usually standing in your way reciting the encyclopedia of animals to their children, there I stood reciting the encyclopedia of animals to my child. And then, a miracle. Well not really, but I am trying somehow to keep your attention. My child roared back and using her American Sign language signed lion! Let me add, it was not to a book or to a stuffed toy or to a small plastic disproportionate lion, but to an actual living breathing gorgeous lion. For that, I love the zoo.