Monday, August 01, 2005
Pilot whale + gravity storm = Tsunami. Simple.
We decided this past weekend might be a good time to escape the heat and take the Ladybug over to San Diego for her first visit to Sea World, as well as her first real trip to the beach. The kid got here Friday afternoon to start the trip and was wired.
I wanna go to Sea World I wanna go to Sea World I wanna go to Sea World!!!!
Of course, I did the usual grandfatherly thing and faked that I was on the phone with Sea World, and that they had to close for the weekend. Ladybug has fallen for my crap-ola a few too many times be quite so easy. She just shakes her head and walks away.
So, Saturday morning we decide to take in the first dolphin show, and everybody, Ladybug included, agrees that the "soak zone" is the place to sit. For those of you inexperienced in Sea World lingo, that's any of the first several rows, where there's a good chance you might get a bit wet. OK, that's a lie. They don't call it a "soak zone" for nothing.
Ladybug is standing in my lap to get a better view of the proceedings, and I'm looking over her shoulder. She's expecting to get maybe a little bit splashed, and is agreeable. There are gravity-defying dolphins flying through the air like birds, a little sprinkle of water here and there, and all is well in Ladybug's world.
Then things changed. Something called a "pilot whale" comes along. This thing is roughly the size of a station wagon. It leaps cleanly into the air right in front of us, then splashes down in not-so-gently a fashion. Very entertaining.
Oooooooh! Aaaaaaaah! Ooooh! Aaah! Aw, SHIT!
Here comes the freakin' Tsunami. We all disappear into the wall of water, with Ladybug still standing in my lap, fully exposed from head to toe. All I can do is cover her face with my hands. We're all laughing our asses off. Well, nearly all.
Ladybug is pissed. Here it comes:
AAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!!!
It turns out "splashing" was on her agenda for the morning. Being hammered by a four-foot wave of ice cold salt water was decidedly not. She spent the rest of the show in Grandma's lap: I don't wanna go to Sea World anymore I don't wanna go to Sea World any more! See, Ladybug likes to get wet, but on her own terms. She spends the next twenty minutes or so pissed off that her dress is sticking to her body, walking around stiff-legged with her arms out, like a cute little Frankenstein in a pink dress and flip-flops.
As you might expect, she dried out in short order, we took in few less threatening shows, and all was right once again in Ladybug's world. Needless to say, however, that was our first and last venture into the "soak zone".
On the way home yesterday, out of the blue, she asks:
"Papa, do you like to get wet?"
"Sure, Ladybug, I love to get wet!"
"OK, next time, you sit down there, and we'll all sit up at the top and watch."
"All right, kiddo. Whatever you say."
Yeah, and no more of those stupid fake phone calls, either.
