Indiana and Broken Legs or Zoo Part 2

So if you read the previous post you know we went to the zoo yesterday in Indiana. Ah, back home again in Indiana. The heartland of America where people who live in Michigan drive across the border to purchase lottery tickets, cheap cigarettes and illegal fireworks. Michiganders usually dump all their dead bodies there too, out in the corn fields near the Toll Road.

I grew up in Indiana, and I knew I was home when while viewing the chimps I overheard this, “Bubbie done wrote a paper on that them there monkeys fer some schoolin’ thing he had to do last year.” OK. I’m just teasing. I have to be careful. I have lots of family and friends who live in Indiana. It’s possible they were from Ohio.


We have a very nice all-terrain Radio Flyer wagon that my in-laws gave us last year. My husband hoisted that huge thing into the trunk of the car and bungeed down the lid, because the tires are so large we couldn’t close it all the way. Then we schlepped it two hours south to Ft. Wayne.

We unloaded from the car in the parking lot and tried to persuade our three year old son David to sit in it. He told us he would rather walk. Once we got past the admission gate he started asking to be carried. The kid weighs 40 lbs. Lug him around the Zoo all day? I don’t think so. “Walk or ride,” we told him. He finally got in the wagon after almost making a scene.

Of course five minutes later David got out to look at something and he wouldn’t get back in. He whined about wanting to be carried, but we held our ground. And so the day went. He chose to walk most of the time and only the backpack went for a ride in the wagon. A few times he did get in, but only briefly. Towards the end, when David got tired and cranky, my husband gave in and picked him up. He’s kinder than I. Were it up to me, David would have rode in the wagon or spent the night in the monkey house.

I don’t understand what the problem is. At home he wants me to pull him around the driveway in the wagon or push him around on his tricycle. He loves to be pulled on a sled in winter or around the pool on a floaty in the summer. But if we go somewhere he doesn’t want to ride, starts out walking then gets tired and wants to be carried. Why is it fun at home, but not when we’re out?

At the grocery store I make him ride in the cart, otherwise I end up chasing him up and down the aisles. He prefers to walk so that he can get into everything. I made the mistake one day when were out at the Secretary of State, and riding wasn’t an option, of telling him his legs weren’t broken and he could walk. Now when I want him to ride he turns it around on me, “But I can walk. My legs are not broken.”

We went out to Walmart once when he was especially cranky. He had a melt down when I told him he had to ride in the cart. He was yelling and crying, and the only comprehendable words that kept coming out of his mouth were, broken and legs. As you can imagine this drew the attention of many Walmart employees and customers. From the looks I got, I am sure they thought I told him to sit down in the cart or I’d break his legs.

Doesn’t he know how good he has it? How great would it be if you could spend a leisurely day at an amusement park being taxied around? I keep telling him to take advantage of riding while he can, because the day will come when it will no longer be an option. “In fact,” I told him once, “someday it will be me you’re pushing around in a wheel chair. What do you think about that?”

He just laughed, shrugged his shoulders and said, “No.”

Guess I’ll have to get one of those electric carts when I’m old.


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One Response to “Indiana and Broken Legs or Zoo Part 2”

  1. Loved New Says:

    I actually started a poll on cafemom about who thinks child leashes are a good idea or just plain silly…. a lot of moms out there prefer using the leashes… not only for convenience, but for safety… I have a 14 month old that I’m considering getting one for She has a mind of her own, and I can see the struggles I’m going to have already.

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