Essentially, even if we weren't quite at the Soak City stage yet, you're still speaking from the POV of that "Kiddieland" era. Whereas I'm speaking from the POV of the "junior spectator" era.
I'm not saying I would have known who Zeidler was at so young an age. But I also wouldn't have viewed Children's Village et al, the "fun place to play", in a child-centric vacuum--as part of an implicitly "full" visit to Ontario Place, one might say that "getting there was half the fun", the sequence of entering via the pods, maybe a ritual Cinesphere "North Of Superior" visit, going around the grounds a bit, around the Forum, to the end of the long sunken-ship pier, up to the roof of the pods and down the fire-escape stairs when all that was free and open.
And ultimately, Children's Village (which in many ways, was at its best before they added the water attractions alongside--sort of like an open-ended, late-hippie-high-concept "come as you are, you don't need a bathing suit" vibe) as a sort of tantrically-sequenced kid-friendly cherry atop the sundae, rather than the whole shebang. You might say, it's like Children's Village was a high-concentration "micro" within a more holistically-defined "macro" sort of "children's village"--that is, Ontario Place itself, as intuitively, sequentially, sensually experienced by the child.
Like any park. Say, with High Park, there's the Jamie Bell Adventure Playground as a high-concentration "micro", and then there's the park at large as the "macro", replete with trails and paths and nooks and crannies to explore, nature to discover, experiences to discover that can open a child's eyes to the infinite diversity of the place.
Or the Ex as more than just the Midway--it's not like a kid is in a position to buy massage chairs or wicker air fresheners, but meandering through the grounds and the pavilions and "just watching", spectators onto that strange grownup world beyond us, made the visit all the more fascinating. (Heck, the fabled NFB documentary "Johnny At The Fair" celebrated that kind of child's eye in 1947--and the child grew up to be artist Charlie Pachter.)
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A lot of that may have been "spectatorship", because we were in tow of our elders. But it's our elders that gave us the means to open our eyes--sometimes inadvertently, or by happenstance, or through ordinary activity (like, as I said, grocery shopping--just looking at the grocery products in the aisles and the sequence of going through the store can open a child's eyes).
So when it comes to Ontario Place, one might say I came to have an intuitive feel for that special something as a sort of *child's preliminary foundation* for eventually knowing more about Zeidler/Hough's vision.
Though actually, I'd say you *did* have a better deal with the pods than the young visitors of the 70s would have; because in reality, nobody in the 70s really figured out how to get said "educational exhibits" off the ground in any enduring way. Thus whatever the pods contained mostly played out as opaque enigmas to the visitor: grounds offices, restaurant/banquet space, maybe a few transient exhibits here and there, who knows what. It did pique a certain "mystery box" curiosity, though. (Though I'd like to know how much the 90s pod exhibits really expressed a "sense of setting" for the young visitor, as opposed to the container being incidental a la Little Canada--I suspect Lego might have done so most of all.)