Stroller Mode vs. Zoom Mode: Two Tales at the Zoo

We’ve taken our little guy to the Baltimore Zoo twice now, and the experiences could not have been more different. The biggest factor? Walking. Or, more accurately, not walking vs. running like a tiny caffeinated tornado.

The first trip was just a month shy of his first birthday. He was still a stroller-bound king, silently surveying the world from his royal throne. Some animals were right at stroller-eye-level, while others required strategic lifting, stretching, and a prayer that he didn’t launch himself like a tiny missile. He said… well, basically nothing. Not a peep. Just quiet, wide-eyed observation. Our big stroller was perfect—it held the diaper bag (aka all of life’s essentials), both water bottles, and still left room for hope. His water cup was strapped in like a tiny life raft. The cherry on top? At the very end of the trip, a bonus baby deer appeared on the property. Surprise wildlife: 1. Parenting stress: 0.

Fast forward a year, right before his second birthday, and it was a whole new adventure. He was practically running the zoo, fueled by sheer toddler energy—and now he had a few words to share. Sometimes he repeated animal names after us, sometimes he firmly told the elephants “no!” (apparently, they were not allowed to eat his lunch). This time we went with my parents, which turned the stroller into a five-water-bottle-mobile, aka the ultimate portable storage unit. Highlights included:

• Feeding a giraffe (he was polite… mostly).

• Bravely standing by the cheetah glass while it strutted past, giving occasional commentary of “No!” or “Hi!”

• Riding the short zoo train, which was basically toddler meditation before lunch.

• Snack chaos: a mix of sharing our sandwiches and hunting for the puff crumbs.

• Picking out a lemur stuffed animal souvenir, clutching it like a tiny, proud trophy.

Honestly, the stroller was our MVP both times. First trip, it was a royal throne for a silent observer. Second trip, it was a storage-packed toddler wrangling station with bonus sass. Either way, it gave us tiny windows of sanity while we watched our little human navigate the zoo—sometimes silently, sometimes loudly, always adorably.

Moral of the story? Whether your toddler is a quiet observer, a repeating echo of animal names, or the sassy “no!” voice of reason to elephants, the Baltimore Zoo guarantees laughter, chaos, and enough memories to fill a stroller… and then some.