Why we love the zoo... and naps

Our local zoo (aka Whipsnade ZSL) is awesome. In summer it provides miles of buggy friendly walk ways to wonder in the sunshine, hoards of animals to admire and enjoy, plus views of the Dunstable Downs to feast your eyes on for hours, or even better, have a picnic on. In winter we still go, wrapped up in about four layers, peeling them off to shelter in the tropical bio-dome butterfly house when it rains or when our toes go numb.

It is probably the single most useful thing in the area for parents, after playgroups. Almost every visitor there has little ones and I can see why. There are wide open spaces to run around, the sea lion show is amazing (especially when the tots get splashed head to toe by the sea lions - hilarious) and the elephants being taken for their morning constitutional across the downs, trunks hanging onto tails, baby on the end, is a sight worth coming for.

I’ve been a member since we moved to the area and twigged what the best local day trips were. The trick with places that cost a lot to visit as a one off, is to join for the year and use the hell out of the free entry that it affords. I might try Woburn Safari Park next year.

The way I used to do a zoo day was to get Mole to take an early nap, then we’d have lunch and be out of the house and up to the zoo by one pm, having most of the afternoon there. This worked really well, apart from sometimes coming home in rush hour traffic. This was also BH (Before Hedgehog).

About six months ago, possibly influenced by winter induced cabin fever, I decided we couldn’t wait for the afternoon, so we would turn up bang on ten am when it opened, have about three hours there and get home for a late afternoon nap. It turns out Mole is less tolerant to her nap being delayed than I realised. She loves her naps, which suits me and I’m quite happy to foster this habit until school age, especially when Hedgehog dovetails into the same sleeping pattern quite easily, creating about two blissful hours of peace and tranquillity in the house.

This means time to read, listen to David Bowie on headphones really loudly, take a long hot shower, cook up something delicious, watch some old episodes of Sex and the City, do some gardening, lie in the hammock staring at the clouds, maybe with David Bowie on headphones, you get the picture. I love naps, the Mediterranean countries have got it right with their siestas, I’m all for introducing them into the working day, everyone would be happier. Anyway, I digress…

So it’s all going very well at first. We get to the zoo. We head for the butterfly house first, partly because last time Mole actually showed an interest in the butterflies, instead of fixating on the crocodiles in the tank and not moving from the entrance doors and partly because it gives us a chance to warm up from the arctic conditions outside.

Mole loves the butterflies again and Hedgehog gets excited watching Mole get excited. The only embarrassing part is having to drag Mole out of the jungle undergrowth and back onto the path. We spend a good half hour in there until the tropical climate induced sweat starts to trickle down my front and we head back out into the English winter.

Hedgehog has recently graduated from being horizontal and sleeping through all our outings, to sitting up in the buggy and rapidly looking from side to side at the world, as if she is constantly startled by everything. Every so often she leans right over to one side without warning and threatens to topple out of her seat. She looks like she is fascinated with the buggy wheels.

We move onto the farm animals. Florence strokes the pygmy goats before spending ages round the chicken house, opening and closing the little hatch door. We spend at least half an hour this way, with me and Hedgehog feeding together on a bench, while Mole runs round the chicken house calling “Chickens, where areeeee youuuuuuu?”. They are not coming out because they’re being traumatised.

Next we move on to the playground, which is where it all goes wrong. Mole wants to climb the rope ladder to reach the slide, but doesn’t want me to help her. So she cries when she gets stuck and cries even more when I lift her up, or take her off. There were four or five other mums standing around, all with perfectly behaved children, granted at least five years older than Mole. My nerves are frayed as I avoid their gaze and drag Mole off the slide, wrestle her into the buggy, get the straps on as she assumes the plank position and wheel them fast to the sea lion show.

I don’t remember what Hedgehog is doing at this point, but there is a good chance it has something to do with the buggy wheels.

By the time we get to the sea lions Mole has calmed down, but the whole arena is heaving with people, so not being able to see the whiskered creatures means she has another melt down. Snot and tears everywhere. “Do you want to go home?”, a wobbly “yeeeeeeees” through breathless sobs and “a bit tirrrrrred”. Game over. We haven’t even been there two hours. I’m starving and the thought of taking them to a busy café in their current state is too awful to think about.

It is a quiet ride home, my nerves recovering and a relief to get them into bed. Hedgehog is slumped over in the car seat when we reach home, her head at an impossibly uncomfortable looking angle, but she transfers from car to cot easily, while Mole practically runs into her bed.

Two fantastic hours of eating, watching Sex and the City, reading in bed and listening to loud rock music follow. If nothing else the zoo cured the cabin fever. Moral of the tale – don’t mess with their naps. I guess the inside of the cabin is not so bad sometimes.