Big Fish

Today I took Jarrah to Sea World for the first time. The suggestion came from our frequent companions Jessica and Olivia, and at first I was resistant. For one thing, I hate the idea of blowing a huge wad of cash on someone who finds hours of fun in a shoe box. For another, the last time I was at Sea World I was like a Victorian maiden in a too-tight corset, so faint was I from the crush of bodies and swelter of July.

But it's January now, and purchasing one eye-bulgingly expensive ticket makes it a "Fun Pass" good for the entire year. Sea World could become a frequent playdate location in the off-season. And I must confess that a teeny, tiny part of me was nostalgic for the Sea World days of my own childhood. Okay, a biggish part of me.

The first stop was Shamu's tank. One of my favorite things about Jarrah's current demographic is that whatever you suggest to her, she's excited about it. I kept saying, "Do you want to see Shamu?" and she'd nod eagerly and jog faster, though I might as well have been saying "Do you want to see a shrub by the side of the road in Bakersfield?" for all she knows about Shamu. And the big fish did not fail to impress. That's a great big ol' black and white fish the size of a truck. Hell, Shamu still takes MY breath away.

We arrived at the dolphins just a hair too late to feed them, but they did come yapping to the surface a few times and we could admire their velvety beauty. Jarrah wanted to hop right in there with them and I had to hold her back.

We did the Shark Encounter, but the only part that truly thrilled Jarrah was the moving sidewalk through the 360 degree tank. Sharks right over our heads? Who cares when the floor is moving? Woohoo!

The grand finale (why push it when you can come back any time you want?) was the Clyde and Seamore Sea Lion show. We've taken Jarrah to a live show only once before, when she was almost 14 months old, at the Wild Animal Park, featuring a freakishly cute newborn elephant. We made it through three minutes before her vigorous tush-kickings of the family in front of us made us beat a hasty retreat. What a difference a year makes!

From the moment she sat in my lap, Jarrah was riveted to the stage, even though it was really far away. Two sea lions and a very cute little otter performed various tricks of jumping, swimming, roaring and clapping, and at the end, a giant pink walrus named Admiral Biggenbottom was mysteriously rescued by something or other and trundled out to roll around. Jarrah clapped wildly when Admiral Biggenbottom was "saved," though I wasn't even sure how she could tell.

I'm not sure why, but during the show, my throat was hard and dry and I couldn't swallow, and tears kept blurring my view. Every time I clapped for one of the animals, or explained to Jarrah what was happening, it got worse. The only thing I could think of is I had come back to this place (let's face it--that sea lion show has been the same for 35 years) I went as a kid and had my own kid on my lap. Knowing that she was seeing it entirely new, in a way I can't anymore. Knowing that I am helping her do that. It really made me feel like an adult, and for once, I was kind of glad about it.