If you have any overhangs or rain gutters on your porch or deck that look like this:

Then be very careful slamming doors today, so you don’t get caught under this:

“I went to the park and saw this kid flying a kite. The kid was really excited. I don’t know why, that’s what they’re supposed to do. Now if he had had a chair on the other end of that string, I would have been impressed.”

-Mitch Hedberg

It’s funny how you lose sight of who you were as a child.

When my parents died, I had to ruthlessly toss boxes and boxes of photos. My father documented everything when we were young (OK, it’s hereditary, what of it?) and I just couldn’t save every photo.

Among the few that I saved were shots of my brother and me flying kites at Cape Henlopen State Park. It’s one of those quiet moments that one recalls decades later with perfect clarity for no good reason: the wind blowing your hair in your face, the tug of the string.

Judging by the look on Cassidy’s face in the photo above, this was a moment I had neglected to share with her before now. She was beside herself when that kite caught and took off.

Do you remember what it was like, when you were amazed that a kite could fly?

Now, I see people and their kids flying kites all the time, especially at the beach. It is a different thing entirely to hold the string yourself, feel the pull, shake the hair being blown in your face. Flying a kite is to return to the child you once were.

These are the moments I strive to provide for my kids, these simple memories of catching fireflies, skipping stones, climbing trees. The sort of uncomplicated memories that get called up from the depths by the smooth feel of a stone, the beat of tiny insect wings on your skin, the sound of leaves rustling. The tug of a kite at the end of the line. The sorts of memories that give you peace.

The boys were not so overt in their enthusiasm for kite flying- seems they found out somewhere that there are these things called kites, and they go up in the sky using the power of wind– but they were certainly quick to claim their turn.

Of course, when they were actually holding the string, they had to go and be all nonchalant. “What, me? I’m just hanging out in the water. I’m holding this kite for my sister so it doesn’t get away. I’m so not involved with the flying of this kite, I’m not even looking at it.”

Right.

Here’s a little something to leave you with this weekend. I couldn’t locate an author to attribute it to:

Go fly a kite, people. Fly ’em with your kids so that when, as an adult, they hold a kite for someone, they can be reminded with perfect clarity this quiet time they once shared with you.

The great thing about getting older

is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.

-Madeleine L’Engle

But they did get airbrushed tattoos, which lasted over a week.

We got to play in the Count’s Splash Castle for two whole hours before the park opened.

There were only three or four other families there, so we pretty much had the run of the place.

We went down the water slides forty-three thousand and eight times. I counted.

I have never been so exhausted by 9 a.m. in my entire life.

My children have probably never been so clean, and most likely never will be so clean again.

We’ll look back on this as the cleanest day of our lives.

We were there for a segment on the local Fox morning news, and like an idiot I didn’t think to have anyone tape it for me. I’ve become so used to everything being available on the internet!

I didn’t exactly elbow anyone aside to get my moment of fame. By the time they were taping, I’d had eighty-two million buckets of water dumped on my head and I’m sure I was looking mighty purty.

Every time that bucket would get me, I’d scream. I just couldn’t help it. I am a sissy.

I may have enjoyed Sesame Place even more than my kids did. They are at an age where it may not be so “cool” to admit you are excited about seeing Cookie Monster and Grover.

At my advanced age, however, I have no such inhibitions.

Moments before this picture was taken, my oldest son melted with embarrassment and withered away into nothing, as I shoved my camera into his hands and yelled- YELLED, people-

“BERT! BERT! IT’S BERT!
JACOB, WILL YOU PLEASE TAKE MY PICTURE WITH BERT??!!”

Please, do not judge. I love me some Sesame Street.

This trip is one of a series. As I now work from home, I’ve been rewarding the kids with one day a week of undivided-attention Mom time. I’ll be posting in-depth about each of these trips on another blog, if you are interested in the details.