I took my daughter to CALM Zoo in Bakersfield one day when she was two years old. This was a regular thing with us. We had a membership and went every week–at least once. Because if she wasn’t BEING a “dolphin wiff a hoit tail” (Winter from Dolphin Tale) or a vegetarian shark (Lenny from Shark Tale) or a dog lifting her leg on strangers at the park (not sure where that one came from. We only had female dogs for pets) ... then she was READING about animals, taking CARE of animals, or WATCHING animals. She was so obsessed with animals that she once had a heart-wrenching sob fest because she did not understand how God didn’t know she wanted to be a dog: “Why didn’t he make me a dog?” she asked, with wide eyes full of tears, sincerely trying to unravel this mystery of the universe.

So we went to CALM a lot. Also, PetSmart. And the animal hospital where Grandma worked. We had pet snails and worms and lizards. She could catch anything. Especially lizards and chickens. (We didn’t have chickens. But if we went somewhere with chickens, it would not take my child more than about a minute to have one in her arms.)

This trip to CALM was supposed to be special. It was the day they were opening the bighorn sheep exhibit. I could imagine no scenario in which Samantha would not want to see the opening day of a new species at her favorite animal place.

So I made the plans, packed the snacks and diapers and water bottles, and off we went.

A news crew was there and a small crowd. I think there was even a ribbon cutting ceremony.

I say “I think” because I don’t actually know. We missed the entire thing. We never even saw a bighorn sheep that day.

That is because Samantha took one split-second glance at the enclosure, saw that there was no animal in it (yet), and was done. (I will not tell the details of the power struggle that ensued because, without understanding her neurodivergence or strong will, it will just make me look like a parent who could not control her child. Which, in all honesty, maybe I couldn’t. Or maybe I just saved my battles for the ones I needed to win. In any case, fast forward past the struggle.)

We saw every other animal in CALM Zoo, ate our snacks by the bears, and played on the playground. By then, I knew the bighorn sheep would be out for visitors to see, and I tried one last time to get her interested in seeing them.

Nope. Not a chance.

We did manage to leave with a bighorn sheep plushie from the gift shop (for me, let’s be honest).

And we returned a week later and finally saw the bighorn sheep. Samantha acted like she was impressed. Like she didn’t know anything about bighorn sheep. Like she had never heard of such an animal before. Like she had never seen their enclosure. She was spell-bound by these new animals that were called sheep but didn’t look like sheep at all, and she wanted to know all about them: where they live, why the boys have big horns, what they eat, how many babies they have, what happens to them if they get a thorn in their “paw,” and on and on.

That was the day I realized that instead of trying to control events or understand toddler logic, my job as a parent is just to be there.

With snacks.