Day Three in DC

Here's an important piece of advice: Never run out of plush panda dolls on a panda's first birthday. It was -- OK, here it come -- pandamonium when the one sponsor table with the stuffed pandas ran out for a moment at the National Zoo.
It's not so much the running out -- that is bound to happen -- but what happened next that was a bit scary and revealing. Ashley and I had worked to the front of the line just as the pandas ran out. She was OK with that, knowing that she'd already received a stress panda and some other items. Plus, for working with the Pennies for Pandas program, she knew there was a gift basket waiting for her.
But when more pandas were found and the annoucement was made -- for kids only -- and they started passing out pandas over her head; well, that's different. Knowing the workers were ignoring the adults, I just tried to get their attention by pointing at my daughter. I guess they thought I was attempting to get one for myself, but finally I got one of the police officers tasked with crowd control's attention and he nudged the folks behind the table to pay attention. Ashley got her bear and we escaped for the other end of the zoo.
Seeing the pandas was almost anticlimatic by the end of the day, but we can say we did and were there on the birthday. As much as the pandas, the O-Line with the orangutans free climbing overhead was the highlight of the day.
After a long day of walking (by the way, do not trust a bus shelter map over your sixth sense for direction), Ashley and I got back the Harrington just in time to click over for the World Cup final. Minutes after flipping the channel, there it was -- Zidine's massive head butt. I still can't understand why, but it served as one of those huge moments of reminding us why sports matter.
My daughter, a soccer player but of passing interest in the WC, turned to me with a stunned and pained expression on her face. Why did he do that? For the rest of the night as we went across the street to ESPNZone for dinner, she would point out the man with the head butt on replays on the screens. That image has stuck with her, and she now remembers his name, his country and what his action cost.
Here's a little American girl, with no sense of what this man's life or career means, but she has a very clear understanding that Zidane equals bad sportsmanship.
Soccer teaches once again during this WC, just not the sugary sweet Disney fairy tale the marketeers wanted.