On a whim this morning, I decided to take my kids to the aquarium (we have annual passes after all). After convincing them that we had to go to the big one (not the small, less accessible one) and that we would not be seeing "baby jack" or any of his family, we were on our way.
Aren't I spontaneous? I thought to myself, as the aquarium was not on our to-do list today. Kiddo brought her drawing bag (it nicely holds paper, markers, pencils, scissors, and glue), in case she needed to draw something. And Babs had her Jesse and Woody figures tightly in her fists. The drive up was pleasant, and it's always nice to use the members entrance. As we stopped to look at the fish in the first tank, and comment on colors and such I thought "this is going to be a great trip."
But before too long, Kiddo was running far ahead of me, Babs was screaming (pleasantly) at the man who welcomed us because she was so excited, and I wasn't so sure this was the right idea after all. Kiddo rushed past most of the exhibits without a second glance, so my time to enjoy the fishes was cut short. She did stop to draw a picture of the grouper fish though, so that was nice.
As we were approaching the shark tank, Babs approached me, and seriously reported, "Jesse's gone. She fell down." And I looked over the wall, and there was the Jesse figure, lying two stories down on the roof of some construction site. "Oh, Babs," was all I could say, as I took Woody and put him in my pocket, hoping that we could hold on to one of them.
I was torn. Do I ask some poor employee to try to help, or do I just accept the loss (knowing she was replaceable)? Kiddo answered that question for me as she came back to where we were standing, saw the Jesse figure, and started in with the hysterics. This clued Babs into the seriousness of the situation, so she started crying too. I calmed them both down slightly, and headed toward the information desk, where they could at least find someone in charge. There was a lot of crying and weeping. I asked the welcoming man, who found some sort of manager, who found the foreman, who (quite easily) retrieved Jesse. I stuck her in my pocket too.
After that we saw the dolphins (always amazing) and played in the children's section. Then we saw the jellyfish, and by request, had "french fries in the aquarium." (Babs loves french fries.) "And how about the ketchup?" which, once she finished all her fries and chicken, she hopefully asked if she could eat with her fingers?
The trip home took an hour, as opposed to the 30 minutes I expected because a car almost ran into us (thank goodness for good breaks) and then a traffic jam. And as I pondered on all the hard parts of the day, I wondered why I even try. Is this how all the excursions I remember so fondly as a child went? One disaster after another for my mom? Then why did she keep at them?
Then a quiet thought reminded me that the day was what I make it. I could remember the glory of the dolphins, the fact that we didn't get hit, Kiddo's sincere desire to do art wherever she goes, Babs head on my shoulder as we walked back to the car, and realize it was a good day after all.
***
Just before dinner, Kiddo asked if we could do play-doh. No, I responded, we can't. Why not, she wondered. Because it's not on our to-do list today, was the answer I came up with. The aquarium was, not play-doh. We'll do that tomorrow, I assured her.
A little later she came running over with my actual to-do list (which did not have aquarium on it) and pointed out: We're supposed to do YouTube! How do you know that? I questioned. It's on the list! she triumphantly announced. It was, back from when I didn't know we were going to the aquarium today. I can't believe I thought it was a good idea to teach her how to read.
