A few days ago, I took my kids to the zoo by myself.  This may  not seem like a big thing, but it was. My eldest, Little J, is practicing for a career as an Olympic sprinter.  He likes to take off and ‘have a little run’ (as he puts it). His ‘little runs’ get him into all sorts of mischief. I remember having to drop packages and waddle at full speed, my 8 month pregnant belly swinging from side to side, as he headed with determined and mindless glee towards a busy intersection.  Mommy was not pleased.

So it was with not a little trepidation that I packed us all up and headed to the zoo. We had glorious spring weather: warm sunshine in cool air and no breeze. Heaven!

I know that some people feel that zoos are terrible things. When I was eleven (or thereabouts), someone asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up. I replied that I wanted to find ways to keep animals in the zoo better entertained: that I thought zoos were sad places for animals. That was my young, idealistic self. Now, I hold an annual zoo membership which (for my convenience) is automatically renewed once a year.  So goes it.

We had a great day at the zoo, and the little runner managed to control himself. Instead of running, he climbed. We visited every climbable object in the zoo including stone hippos, rams, turtles, penguins, pelicans, and ostriches.

At the end of the day, we were strolling from the crocodile enclosure into the migrating birds-of-the-Netherlands exhibit (how are these linked???).  Everyone is required to stay on the walkway and to not walk on the grass, but my son acknowledges no higher authority (including, mostly, me) so he was having a wonderful time marching on the grass verge.  I was using my ‘outdoor voice’ to ask him to get back on the pathway. Limited response.

As I was parking my Quinny stroller (where Little K was sleeping in her cute white and PINK  furry bear snowsuit) to corral my errant son, a group of schoolboys walked past. They were probably about 11 or 12 years old and visiting the zoo for school (I deduced this from the quiz papers in their hands). One of the lads had clearly heard me yelling at Little J in English and said in Dutch as he walked past: ‘Quinny. Hmm. There’s another little boy in there, only not as ugly as the one running around.’ 

Now, maybe my daughter is ugly. I’m her parent, who am I to say? But I suppose that the myriad people stopping me to coo over her and comment on how smiley and cute she is might be better judges. Still, the content of the comment didn’t bother me, it’s that 12 year-old boys thought they could say this to an adult. I was too busy catching my son before he mowed down some sort of water reeds and ended up in the pond, so I didn’t say anything to them.

About five minutes later, the boys passed me again, going back to the crocodiles. Now, the same lad started saying the Dutch equivalent of the “c” word as he walked by me. He wasn’t calling me this name, he was just using it. Clearly, my not being Dutch meant I didn’t exist.  I told him: Nice language, boys.  I was about to ask him (in Dutch) if he used that same mouth to kiss his mother, but my little runner was off again, so no chance.

Do 12 year-olds really talk like this? I NEVER used that kind of language at that age. In high school, while taking French class, I remember feeling cool because I could say ‘merde’ in front of my parents and not get in trouble. Merde might mean ‘shit’, but it just doesn’t have the same taboo feeling. It’s simply not a curse word. I’ve gotten used to Dutch kids saying  ‘shit’ and even the F word in front of me, because I know that they don’t see it as a curse word. They know that it is, but it doesn’t feel wrong. I often shock my in-laws by saying ‘bloody this or that’ because I’m not English and don’t FEEL the wrongness of the word when I say it. I just like the way it sounds in combination with something.

Anyway, I am still surprised by the behavior of these kids.  I hope that Little J and Little K don’t feel inclined to behave in the same way in the future. Because nothing –no amount of running away or trampling weeds or anything else– will distract me from correcting THAT.