As my maternity leave slips away, I figure it’s time to do some of those things I always think I’ll do with time off, but never seem to accomplish. So earlier this week I packed up the kids for a morning at the Como Zoo. As we negotiated our stroller through the tide of other strollers in the primate building, my two-year-old crouched down in the corner of the orangutan exhibit, away from the many people trying to get a picture of the baby orangutan in the back of the enclosure. The baby swung on a series of ropes directly to Logan and mirrored him, squatting down and peering through his own hands on the other side of the glass. They were almost the exact same size. I was spellbound, until the other visitors crowded around us to take pictures and the baby retreated back to his family. It’s these moments that humble me at the zoo, where–regardless of the disparities of privilege and deprivation on either side of the glass–two species make a undeniable connection. The poverty of that connection makes the moment bitter; the innocence renders it sweet.