Gran At Large

Then the grown-ups in your life tell you there's nothing to be afraid of. You're introduced to the neighbours' cat at close quarters, shown how to stroke her, hear how she purrs with pleasure and rubs round your legs. You get taken to Hall Hill Farm, where people hurry over to lay chicks in your lap, or a guinea pig, or a rabbit. You stroke them too and learn what cute creatures they are. You wish you could take them home with you. You watch lambs being fed and feel the strange, oily, springy wool of the sheep. You feed the llama and the cows. You think it's great fun and decide 'going to see some animals' is the most special entertainment of all.

Then you get taken to the zoo. You laugh at the monkeys. You see real live penguins, looking remarkably like your beloved 'Pingu' and his friends on CBeebies. You see flamingoes and kangaroos.

You see an emu. Or at least, you see what Nana and Grandad say is an emu. It looks nothing like the purple and yellow thing that used to be Daddy's when he was a little boy, which you play with when you go to stay at Nana and Grandad's house. This so-called emu is a drab nondescript-looking beige thing, and it's a serious disappointment.

But the giraffes more than make up for it. You gaze at them in awe, so tall, with their huge, liquid long-lashed eyes gazing down at you from their great height. They are beautiful, astonishing creatures.

Then you see the tigers. One of them's asleep under an overhanging branch; the other's walking straight towards the window behind which you're watching. They're just like big versions of next-door's cat.

They look as if they'd like to be stroked and might even purr."I want to go in there!" you say, expecting the usual encouragement.

But no, you're told; you can't go in, or touch them. "They can be a bit fierce. They might not like it if you went near them. They get cross sometimes."

Then an eager young member of the zoo's staff comes over, all fired up with her mission to educate. She tells you about the Indonesian villagers who paint eyes on the back of their hats to scare off the tigers that stalk them through the jungle.

You clutch Nana's hand. "They don't really like eating people," she adds, perhaps sensing she's gone a bit too far. "They prefer horses or sheep or pigs."

Nana's hand gets squeezed even tighter. What is this? An animal that you're actually told not to touch, that might hurt you, that even likes to eat some of your favourite other animals? It's all very puzzling, very alarming.

And how does a loving grandparent explain all this satisfactorily to a two-year-old? We could see Jonah was going over it all in his mind as we led him away from the tigers. He was very quiet for a long time. We were a bit anxious about him. Was he going to wake up in the night screaming with terror at the thought of tigers padding after him through the jungle?

London Zoo has a children's corner, so we went there next. Jonah spotted some familiar shapes. "Sheep!" he cried with delight. He ran over to them and spent a long time patting the friendly animals; safe animals. Then someone brought a rabbit out for the children to stroke - but that someone was the very same young woman who'd explained about the tigers.

Jonah looked at her, then at the rabbit, then at her again. He was clearly remembering those tigers. Might the rabbit turn out to be a fierce animal after all? It looked sweet enough, but then so did the tigers. Might it be wiser not to touch it? It took him a long time to pluck up courage for one stroke of the soft fur.

At last, it was time to go. We were relieved that Jonah didn't seem worried by his experience. He'd obviously enjoyed himself. He was as chatty as ever on the journey home.

Much later, we asked him which animals he'd liked best at the zoo. "The tigers!" he said, without a moment's hesitation. I suppose he's starting to learn that sometimes it's fun to be a little bit frightened - so long as you know at the same time that you're really perfectly safe.

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