Our visit to the Virginia Aquarium was a complete disaster. It was ridiculously crowded. Isaac was both tired AND tired of potty training. He decided to forego the toilets and ran around hitching up his soggy pull up. He was overstimulated and I was slow moving—the stroller slowed me waaaay down, stranger’s kids kept trying to climb on it, and Eloise fussed and howled.
“THAT BABY IS CRYING!” said lots of little kids while they watched a crocodile slide by at kid-eye level.
Adult European tourists blocked off the best views of the tanks while Isaac and other shorties said, “Mooooom! I can’t see!”
Eloise had some lunch in front of the glorious shark tank. That was cool, until she pooped through her onesie, my baby sling, and onto my pants. I always have spare baby clothes and even a spare shirt for me in the diaper bag, but pants? Sigh. I just wiped it off as best I could.
A huge thanks goes to my long-suffering neighbors for putting up with us that day. They, and the aquarium itself, were awesome, and no doubt our next visit WITH DAD will be loads of fun—we can front-pack the baby and skip the dang stroller. This misadventure is what I get for trying to do something fun with both kids by myself.
But since our first visit was such a bust, I’m just editing it out of my memory and stuffing our aquariumizing into this trip to the Houston aquarium the rest of the cousins enjoyed last month. Boom—much better.
A Lazy Saturday in Japan
Deep in the Heart of Texas
Midnight in Bolivia
Sunset Cliffs