I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
February 27, 2007
>It was just another day at the zoo. The members of my playgroup sat around a large covered gazebo while our two and three-year-olds tumbled around on an oversized soft mat in front of us. We’ve been to the zoo several times before and the toddler gazebo always provides the perfect opportunity for us to socialize while letting the kids rid themselves of any excess energy.
Until today.
“Blah, blah blah, potty training,” I was saying to the moms. Or maybe it was “Blah, blah blah preschool.” I can’t remember. The kids were a little more active than usual and I was having trouble keeping an eye on Baby and talking at the same time. I was glad I had dressed her in a red jacket, which made her easier to spot among the two dozen toddlers hurling themselves against the gazebo’s plastic cushions.
My friend Ellie happened to turn for a moment and look out at the vast playfort built outside for the older kids. At that precise moment, her two-year-old daughter went running by. Somehow, she had escaped from the gazebo unnoticed.
“What the…” she yelped. “How did that happen?! Isabelle!” Hastily, she jumped to her feet and chased after her.
“Where’s Evan?!” my friend Christy said breathlessly, rushing past me with her daughter, Patty in hand. “He was just here a second ago and now he’s gone! How am I going to explain to my friend that I lost her son at the zoo?!”
Panicked, I stood while a stampede of two-year-olds tumbled by toward the gazebo exit as though following an invisible Pied Piper of Playforts. It was a toddler riot! Every mom for herself! I took off after Baby as quickly as I could, but my nine-month-pregnant belly wasn’t making things any easier.
“Baby, wait!” I shouted. It was as if she didn’t know me.
“At least put your shoes on!” I pleaded. That was enough to break the spell, albeit momentarily. Baby hated getting her feet dirty. She stopped and let me put shoes on her before once again rushing for the playground.
For the next thirty minutes, I chased her through an elaborate maze of nooks and crannies and steps and bridges and tunnels, contorting my body into all kinds of uncomfortable positions in a frenzied effort not to lose my kid. Here and there, other moms from my playgroup ran in zigzags around me. Toddlers pushed past me on every side; when I saw one I recognized, I’d grab anything I could- a sleeve, a pigtail- and try to drag the child along with me until his/her mother could catch up. At one point, after narrowly squeezing my way belly-first through a tiny opening my daughter had just run through, I looked up to see Christy, who was triumphantly holding onto both Evan and her own daughter. Seeing me, she burst out laughing. I gave her a dirty look and continued my pursuit.
“I think it’s time to go to the merry-go-round,” I gasped to two other panting moms when Baby finally decided to leave the playfort for a moment.
“Yeah,” Cherie agreed, wiping her forehead. “Yeah, definitely.”
Somehow, with promises of juice boxes and cookies and brand new iPods, we managed to wrangle our toddlers into their strollers and wagons and head for the carousel. There, another battle would await us when we opted for just one (very expensive) ride- While Baby headed straight for the carousel’s token machine and refused to budge unless I bought tokens for another ride, angelic little Isabelle of the pink running suit and platinum blonde ponytails locked her arms in a death grip on the carousel fence and repeated “I don’t wanna see da elephants,” in a menacing monotone that came straight out of The Shining and scared the hell out of all of us.
Today marked the end of an era for all of us. Our sweet-tempered babies who used to play so nicely at our feet, crying if we disappeared from their sight for even the quickest of bathroom trips, officially morphed into three-feet-tall hellions who not only wouldn’t have cared, but actually would probably have preferred it if we moms had left the zoo altogether for a few hours and had a round of frozen daquiris at Applebee’s.
“They grow up so fast, don’t they?” one of the moms said dazedly as we pulled our struggling toddlers toward the zoo’s exit at the end of the day. I grunted in response.
When we got home, Baby went down for a long nap. She finally woke, looked me right in the eye and said “Mom, come on! Let’s go to the zoo.”
“Maybe next decade,” I said, smiling sweetly.
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>All it takes is that first kid to start and the rest catch it like a virus.I was 7 months pg and got stuck in one of those darn tunnels chasing my daughter and I actually told my hubby to just leave me. LOL!
>Linds, with my habit of imagining things as cartoons, your stories could entertain me all day. You should develop a show like Rugrats, except more like Family Guy…know what I mean?Funny stuff.
>Lucky you! Shortly you will have a new captive audience, even as Baby heads out to explore this great big zoo. That’s the best of both worlds.
>do that. and it always, no matter how many kids you have, catches you un aware!
>hey when are you do anyway? Are you doing ok?
>I laughed through your entire story as it has happened to me too. Plus, having twin 4-year-old girls, they never choose to go in the same direction – AUGH! I just found out about your blog from another blogger friend who told me to check it out as I am in Nashville too. We love the zoo! Hope to see you there sometime.
>Oh my gawd… I hear you. And I’m not even pregnant! I’m exhausted for you after reading that..We have a preschooler now too… no more toddling! “Come on, Mom! Let’s go!”It won’t be long til we just hand over the car keys… Oh. That thought made me shiver!
>My kids aren’t allowed on the zoo playground when my husband isn’t there to chase them. That place is huge and I can’t keep up with them all. I’d rather be the mean mommy than chase them every which way.
>Jack will be two on April 30th. Naturally being the precocious chil that he is, he’s been letting us know he’s two for months.I can’t imagine running after him while pregnant. You have my props.
>My preschooler is in the latch herself to mom’s leg and demand she go to the zoo, or park, or wherever it is she wants to go. An Insecure Tyrant, I guess. Fun when I’m trying to nurse the baby.Just found your blog recently – not sure where, but sure do like what I see!