Summertime memories are particularly poignant when you realize how fast your kids are growing.
It happens so fast. One moment they’re wobbly headed toddlers with an insatiable need to touch every object in a room, and the next they’re heading for Middle School. A few years ago, when our children were tiny, my husband and I tried to avoid amusement parks as much as possible. They were too crowded, we’d argue. The lines to all the rides were too long, and the food was crappy and overpriced. But soon enough, there we were, visiting Sesame Place in Langhorne, Pennsylvania, with my sister and her family. My kids, then 1 and 4, were in the Mini Monster Playhouse with their cousins, attempting to climb a steep, cone-shapped slide. My son, who had just started walking a few months prior, tried his best to make it to the top, but each time he got halfway up he slid right back down. At one point my daughter offered him a hand, but the weight of him only caused the two of them to slip and fall. As they struggled, they began laughing, and before you know it Steve and I were cracking up too. The kids both looked so cute in their bathing suits, sliding down a blue vinyl mountain, limbs spread out like one of those Garfield stuffies people used to suction onto their car windows, that we couldn’t take their eyes off them. When they finally made it to the top, all four of us were cheering. And we decided that maybe amusement parks weren’t so bad after all.