Most museums don’t have multi-floor climbing structures running up their middle. Then again, most museums aren’t designed for patrons under 10 years old. But Port Discovery, the children’s museum in Baltimore, has a great variety of exhibits for kids of all ages. With Chris’s parents in town, we were lucky enough to visit the museum this past weekend.
I’m a planner, an anticipator. Part of the joy of an adventure for me is planning it and seeing how those plans do – or don’t – come to fruition. Sometimes the plans gone awry result in a better situation than I would have imagined, or at least a funny story. Other times, they just flop. This past weekend, we had one of the latter.
We didn’t have anything major on the calendar for Saturday, but I had seen an advertisement for a “truck touch” and thought it sounded like fun. For a fundraiser, a local elementary school brought together a whole slew of big trucks for kids to climb on and explore. As Sprout enjoyed his tour of our hometown’s fire station, this sounded like a great opportunity for Mommy-Sprout time. Chris was tasked with staying home and mowing the lawn.
It started well enough, hopping on the bus that stops right outside our house. Sprout loves riding the bus, so this was a treat in and of itself. During our half-mile walk to the event, three things quickly became evident. One, that we needed to stop for a bathroom break. Because I feel like a mooch if I use an establishment’s bathroom without purchasing something, I bought a banana and hot chocolate from a local cafe. Two, I realized I didn’t have enough cash, requiring a stop at the ATM. And three, the event was both further than anticipated and Sprout was moving slower than I expected. While I didn’t think he was going to be full-speed ahead, I thought it might step to it a little more. At times, I was practically dragging him even though my pace was pretty darn slow. By the time we got there, it was past 11:30, practically time for lunch.
But almost immediately, I realized that time wasn’t our biggest issue. That would be the incessant, very loud honking of truck horns. Most of them weren’t too loud, but every few minutes, the huge Mack truck’s horn would go off. Honnnnnnkkkkkkk! it bellowed. And every time, Sprout shuddered, turned away and hugged my legs. I knew beforehand that he doesn’t like loud, sudden noises, but I hadn’t even considered associating “truck touch” with “kids constantly honking trucks’ horns.” His fear inspired guilt in me for even thinking this was a good idea.
To distract from the noise, I tried to show Sprout the equipment a utility worker laid out in front of his truck, including giant rubber gloves that go up to your elbow. I offered to bring him on the moving van’s lift that was slowly carrying children and their parents up and down. But every answer was a simple, definitive “no.” The only other thing he would say was, “Trucks are loud.” He spoke softly, but his message was clear.
We found some respite in the bounce house, which Sprout clamored to enter. But even that was punctuated by the deep rumbling horn that each time made him stop jumping and look at me worriedly through the mesh.
Wandering even further from the main parking lot, we settled in the school’s playground. There, even the loudest honks became background noise. The play jeep that didn’t move was much more his speed than the actual big trucks. Away from the blood-curdling honks, he ran up stairs, slid down slides, and shared equipment with other kids. It was an amazing difference.
After about 45 minutes at the playground, I called Chris to pick us up. The whole bus rigamarole was too complicated to get Sprout back in time for his nap. Walking back to the entrance, Sprout could barely tolerate the honking for long enough to admire the shiny fire truck.
So not everything I do works out, even activities specifically designed for kids. Thankfully, this was a pretty low-cost, low-time commitment activity. And Sprout did end up having a good time in the end – he obviously liked the playground and later said “Liked fire truck.” I just have to remind myself not to be disappointed when the reality of a day out doesn’t match my imagined version.
I’m not a huge fan of the Disney princesses, but I have always been a knights and castles kind of girl. The sieges, battles and court fascinated me since I was in elementary school. So combined with my love of dressing up, it’s a natural fit for me to love Renaissance faires, which offer the most fantastical and romanticized version of that era possible. Thankfully, they’re very family friendly, even for the youngest of kids. After we had a great time last year, we brought Sprout back to the Maryland Renaissance Festival again last weekend. With these experiences, here are a few things I’ve learned about attending these events with young children:
1) Know that they involve lot of walking, but aren’t stroller-friendly.
Renaissance faires are typically held in huge fields, with more than 100 exhibitors and stands. As they mimic a village, the buildings take up more room than you would expect – they’re not crammed in like booths at a craft fair. They’re often planned like a medieval village with odd little side streets, so seeing everything requires walking in circles. In addition, they can serve thousands of people a day, so the parking lot is very large. As a result, you may walk more than a mile or even two over the course of the day. However, I wouldn’t recommend bringing a stroller, if possible. The paths are usually unpaved and our faire has a number of very steep hills. They can also be very crowded. If your little one can’t walk that far, a baby backpack is the best bet. If you do bring a stroller, it needs to be a heavy-duty one; an umbrella stroller will be useless on the terrain.
The juggler that Sprout found surprisingly funny.
2) Figure out what shows you want to see on the drive there.
With more than 50 separate shows to choose from at 12 locations, there’s a lot to do at our faire. From mini-plays to knighting kids, it can be overwhelming, not to mention wandering bards on the paths. As a result, it’s easy to lose track of time and completely miss the show you really want to see. We decided that the one show we really wanted to see was the jousting; everything else was a bonus. On the way there, we stopped for a juggler with an absurd German accent that Sprout found surprisingly entertaining.
3) Buy tickets online, if you can.
The lines can be long and our faire offers tickets for the same price online as at the Gate. The faster you can get everyone inside, the better.
4) Feel free to dress up – or not.
Like Comic-Con, one of the most fun things to do at the Renaissance faire is costume spotting. Staff and attendees alike are often elaborately dressed, ranging from historically accurate to just ornately pretty. If you want to get in on it, you can make your own or in some cases, even rent them there. But also don’t feel obliged to dress up. I’ve gone in costume previously but went in jeans this year because I really didn’t want to deal with multiple layers of skirts at port-a-potties.
5) Dress to adapt for changing weather.
Whether you wear a costume or not, be prepared for the weather. Faires tend to be almost completely outside with hardly anywhere that provides protection from the elements. Last year at the beginning of September, the sun beat down and I was sweaty in my sleeveless but lined dress. This year in October, the highs in the mid-50s made us feel a bit chilled despite our layered sweaters and jackets. We didn’t bring rain gear, but it would have been a good idea.
6) Bring a water bottle.
As many faires are in the summer and early fall, it can be staggeringly hot. Combined with the amount of walking, both parents and kids can easily get dehydrated. The food can be expensive with long lines, so it’s best to fill up your own bottle at water stations there.
7) Set a shopping budget.
One of my favorite things about the Renaissance Faire is that it’s an artist and crafter showcase in disguise. Small artisans, including leather workers, weavers, glassblowers, jewelry makers, toy makers, and costume designers sell their wares, all with a medieval flair. But they also charge prices appropriate to their time and effort, which can be much higher than retail. It’s easy to either spend far more than you intended or decide the prices are too high and regret it later. (Some of the vendors have websites, but their inventory is generally much worse than in person.) Often, the faire will list vendors on its website, so if you can look over it ahead of time, you can set a list of things you might want to buy (ex. a handmade toy sword) and how much you want to spend.
6) Be willing to spend a little on extras.
Along with the shows and vendors, the Maryland Festival has a variety of “amusements,” including a maze, Jacob’s ladder, ax throwing, archery, tests of strength, giant slides, and puzzle games. Unlike the County Fair carnival, which has the sole purpose of separating you from your money, the atmosphere is more laid back. The games also tend to be much cheaper and more unique. I spent a dollar to play a giant wooden pinball machine and the amusement value for both Sprout and I justified the price.
7) Take some time for free play.
Being overly scheduled or dragged from booth to booth can be boring for kids, so it’s good to let them run around. Our faire has a playground built around a giant wooden pirate ship. Having watched some of the other kids on it, I do ask that you take away their new toy swords before you let them loose on the playground.
8) Try to teach your toddler to say the word “Renaissance.”
We weren’t trying to teach Sprout, but he just picked it up from conversation and it’s really adorable.
From bald eagles to mazes made of hay bales, the last few weekends have felt familiar and yet new. With both sets of grandparents visiting, we returned to some of our favorite local places: Meadowside Nature Center, the fall celebration at Butlers’ Orchard, and Cabin John Regional Park. While we had been to them all last year, it was revelatory to see how much Sprout’s reactions changed over time.
At all of these locations, he was far more engaged than before. Previously he would just watch something intently; now he remarks and interacts with it. The animals at the Nature Center were of particular interest, as he loudly pointed out (multiple times), the snake, owl and eagle. That night, we overheard him telling his stuffed animals about the animals he saw earlier in the day. He still didn’t have a lot of patience with my explanations of the feeding habits of snakes, but that will come with time.
At Butlers’ last year, he spent most of the time slowly wandering around, blocking up the little bridge and other playground equipment for the rest of the kids. Instead, he was running around, evading my mom as he darted between sections of a wooden train.
Some of the equipment that he was too small for last year or was too intimating was easily conquerable.
In the past, he reacted to the running, yelling kids and the shadowy interior of Butlers’ hay bale maze by crying. This year, he sprinted down the hallways, occasionally looking back to see if he had lost us yet. He barreled through the older kids, paying them no attention. When we rounded a turn and “found” him, he giggled hysterically. He climbed straight up a ladder into a giant tractor and down a dark slide. He was also a big fan of a fake spiderweb, with bouncy elastic strands. He wasn’t that interested in climbing across it, but spent a good 10 minutes standing up and plopping himself down, the exact same way he jumps on our bed.
The cool/weird play house at Cabin John.
At Cabin John Park last year, Sprout stuck to the side with the little kids’ equipment, like houses and play cars. This time around, he still spent quite a bit of time exploring those sections, but was more sophisticated in his understanding. He actually pretended to drive the cars rather than simply spin the wheel. When he saw me whack the bells with a stick, he looked on the ground for a suitable one as well. Beyond the “baby” equipment, he tackled parts of the playground far beyond his current age, scrambling up a rock-wall and inching through tubes in the 5 to 12 year old area. I spotted him on some of the trickier aspects and warned him away from going down ladders, but for the most part, he handled it extremely well. He even slid down a giant slide that I thoroughly expected him to get to the top of and then refuse to go down. It was just as steep and far higher than the slide at Constitution Gardens Park that he was uninterested in only a few weeks ago.
But he wasn’t fearless about everything; there were still a few things that definitively scared him. However, when he was scared, it was a more emotionally complex response than in the past. For example, the Nature Center has a fake cave kids can crawl through that you enter through a very dark, narrow tunnel. Sprout was thoroughly uninterested in going in it last year, but forgot about it as soon as we moved on. In contrast, he was actively frightened by it this year, and got upset when anyone mentioned it later that day. The next week, he showed a similar level of anxiety towards touching the sheep at Butlers’. That night, we heard him say to his animals that he was “a little nervous” about it. I think he picked up on me saying it, but it’s still a sophisticated concept.
Reflecting on it, I think I understand the connection between the two and why they bothered him so much. Rather than simply being scared of those things – which he normally gets over quickly – there may be a level of regret to go with it. He wanted to go in the cave and touch the sheep (he’s touched one before), but was too frightened to do so. While this may be reading too deeply into his emotions, if it is true, we’ll have to think of ways to help him not dwell on those situations. I don’t want to pass my neuroses on to him.
Besides changes in Sprout, we had slightly different options than before at each of the locations, which made for a different experience. In particular, we spent much longer at Butlers’ Orchard than we did last year, due to the fact that we weren’t freezing our asses off. In contrast to last year’s cloudy and wind-blown weather, we had clear skies. Soaking in the warm autumn sun, we went on the hayride where we actually sat in piles of real hay and stopped at a pumpkin patch. Sprout has been mildly obsessed with a “little pumpkin” we picked up at the farmers’ market a couple of weeks ago, so he was in squash heaven. He bounced around looking at all of the options and with my mom, picked out a medium-sized one that he could barely carry and a gigantic bumpy pumpkin.
I love trying new things, but there’s a charm in having traditions you do each year. It’s like a growth chart for mental and social progress for your children.
Ever since reading about The Land, I’ve been intrigued by the idea of nature playgrounds. While I didn’t want my toddler setting things on fire (one of the many risky options at The Land), I do like the idea of substituting natural materials for plastic playsets. By their very nature, they’re more versatile and offer a more creative experience than playgrounds, which tend to be highly-directed. So when nearby Gaithersburg opened up a nature playground at Constitution Gardens Park, I knew I wanted to visit with Sprout.
With blue skies and fall just approaching, it was a lovely morning to check it out. While it’s perfectly walkable from Old Town Gaithersburg – and a wonderful resource for those who live there – almost everyone else will need to drive. It’s far from the closest Metro station and I still haven’t figured out how to bike safely from Rockville to Old Town. While the park doesn’t have a parking lot, there’s ample street parking right next to it.
The park is long and rather narrow, a bit squished between a private house and a clubhouse for some nearby condos. The initial impression is a bit odd, as there’s a big fence with a swimming pool right next to it. In addition, it could be confusing for little kids who now want to go to the pool instead. Thankfully, while Sprout pointed out the pool, he wasn’t particularly keen on going in it.
The rest of the park was more thematically fulfilling. A large area filled with sand offers kids an actual chance to play in the dirt, which most parks look down upon. It’s equipped with a push-button water fountain and buckets, which seemed to be the most popular feature in the park by far. Never underestimate toddlers’ love of filling things with water and dumping them out. Thankfully, everyone did pretty well waiting to take their turns. There’s also a little wooden building with a counter like a store, a tiny slide, and wooden farm animals for riding.
Other areas of the park were geared more towards older children. A staircase made of uneven logs led to two very steep slides. While Sprout enjoyed climbing up, one look down and he was shaking his head. Thankfully, they offer an alternate exit down a different path. Hunks of wood of varying shapes and length made for Lincoln Logs perfect for wobbly stacking. Another, much bigger hand-pump, sprayed water into a faux dried streambed decorated with iridescent glass. Even though he didn’t come close to reaching the top on the handle, Sprout still pumped it up and down as much as he could a number of times. There’s just something about kids and water.
Although we went on a Friday morning, there were several families there, with joggers and dog-walkers wandering through as well. The park is open on three sides to the residential streets, which makes it a nice alternate route to the sidewalk. The kids were enthusiastic without being wound – perhaps the natural materials provided a calming effect.
The only major complaint I had about the park was the lack of shade. While there are some trees, the park is so new that they haven’t gotten very big yet. Although I thought it would be a relatively cool day, with highs in the 70s, the D.C. sun got the best of me and I was boiling by the end of the trip.
While not wild and crazy the way some nature playgrounds are, Constitution Gardens provided a nice reprieve from the molded plastic jungle gyms that all use the same interchangeable pieces.
As a kid, I adored the ticky-tacky tourist trap that was and is Lake George Village. Nestled in the foothills of the Adirondacks, I loved everything from its elaborate mini-golf courses to its flashing arcades. So of course, I love Ocean City, Maryland, which is much like Lake George except bigger and more popular with an actual beach to boot. We had hoped to camp at nearby Assateague National Park, but when realized the entire season was booked up back in May, I joked to my mom about my parents taking us to Ocean City. Much to my pleasant surprise, she took me up on my suggestion, leading us to all head out to Ocean City this past weekend. As this was Sprout’s first time, he had a variety of reactions, some of which were more unpredictable than others.
What Sprout Liked that I Exected Him to Like
Carnival rides: After our experience at the County Fair, I fully expected him to enjoy the even bigger Ferris wheel at the end of the boardwalk. Unfortunately, it turned out that the view wasn’t as good than at the Fair. At night, the dark swallowed the grandeur of the ocean. Nonetheless, both it and the double-decker Merry Go Round were big hits. It’s amazing how Sprout’s reactions to rides have evolved, from the seemingly impassive reception at Disney to the engaged sense of wonder now. While his facial expressions haven’t really changed much, the subtle differences are obvious.
Arcade games: Chris and I introduced Sprout to a fundamental part of our childhoods that had little educational or social benefit – video game arcades! While he liked the percussion adaptation of Dance Dance Revolution, the big hit was skeeball. As Chris and I played in our own lanes, my mom rolled the balls with Sprout hand-over-hand and scored over 100 points! Between the three of us, we had enough tickets to buy a little googly-eyed ring for him, which he clutched the rest of the day. Finding games that he would like brought back some of my childhood joy playing video games, especially since so many of them are just glorified slot machines now.
Ice cream: Okay, this was a gimme.
Spending time with his grandparents: A bit of a gimme too, but I love the relationship they have. My grandparents lived far away from me in a time before FaceTime and we always had to visit them, not the other way around. I really appreciate that my parents want to have a solid bond with him and are willing to put in the time to do so. (This is true of Chris’s parents as well.)
Things I Expected Sprout to Like But He Didn’t
Going in the ocean: Sprout didn’t mind standing on the very edge and allowing the waves to occasionally reach his toes, but he responded “Nope!” every time I asked him if he wanted to go further. He found the feeling of the ground washing away beneath his feet quite disconcerting. He expressed a clear interest in watching the waves and placing shells in the surf to wash away, but was intimidated by the size and power of the waves. (In some ways, it wasn’t all that different from the cows at the County Fair – better at a distance.) I hope that as he gets bigger, he learns to appreciate it, as I adore the power of diving into the crashing waves like a clumsy dolphin.
Building sand castles: I was gung-ho on sand castle building, with a whole giant bag filled with toys. As soon as we sat down on the beach, I started filling the molds with wet sand and flipping them over to create an elaborate castle. But Sprout was totally uninterested in helping. Instead, he just wanted to dump water all over my creations, resulting in them looking less like medieval buildings and more like Gaudi’s architecture. As he wasn’t willing to get the water himself, he would request “More water?” in his little voice, sending myself, Chris, or my dad to go retrieve another bucketful from the ocean. We spent a lot of time trudging the few feet needed to get yet another refill.
Flying kites: Sprout liked watching people fly kites – he pointed out every parasailer we saw (“big kites”). But again, participation wasn’t high on his list. I can’t blame him on this one though. While I envisioned bright kites high up above the ocean, our efforts were much more Charlie Brown than anything else. Both my mom and I had kites that were supposed to be easy to fly, but we found impossible to keep up in the air. As long as I was running, mine stayed up, but running on the beach gets very tiring very quickly. My legs giving out put an end to our kite-flying dreams.
Things I Didn’t Even Consider Before the Trip that Sprout Enjoyed
The Year-Round Christmas Store: These were staples of Lake George Village and pretty much every tourist-trap type place, but I never expected to go to one in Ocean City. (Why bother?) But when we were waiting for more than a half-hour to be seated for dinner, it was an awesome diversion. Sprout piped up “Big Santa!” every time he saw the giant Santa outside and named every single type of vehicle and animal ornament he saw. I had to carry him to prevent his tiny fingers from wrecking havoc, but that was a small price for an extended period of entertainment.
The hotel pool: I’ve always thought pools at ocean resorts were rather redundant. If you have an ocean, why would you ever go in the pool? But when you’re afraid of actually going in the ocean (see above), the pool is a pretty good alternative. Because my parents used their credit card points, we stayed in a way swankier hotel than either Chris and I or normally my parents could afford. It had a rocking kiddie pool, complete with two slides, a mini-lazy river, and squirting fountains. It was the perfect thing to allow Sprout to go in the water without the scariness of the waves themselves.
For a more amusing take on beach vacations with 100% more pie charts, check out Mommy Shorts’ Is the Beach Worth It?
What’s your best and worse experiences bringing kids to the beach?
Giant cows, sheep in coats, neon Ferris wheels, huge wheels of cheese, racing pigs and deep fried everything – just a few of the wonders found at our local county fair. Except for the pig races, which we sadly missed, we experienced all of these last Sunday at the Montgomery County Agricultural Fair. But the thing I cared about the most was one little ribbon in one little pavilion on a plate full of cherry tomatoes. To be precise, my cherry tomatoes.
I’ve always loved county fairs. We frequently attended the Saratoga County Fair when I was a kid, home of many animal exhibits and at least one absolutely terror-inducing ride that clearly didn’t meet any reasonable level of safety standards. When we moved to Montgomery County, which has an entire agricultural reserve, I knew it would have a worthwhile fair. With three years of gardening experience, I thought it would be fun to enter my tomatoes in the fair last year, but it directly overlapped with our trip to Disney World. So I held off until this year.
While I do think of them as “my tomatoes,” gardening is really a family affair. We picked cherry tomatoes because it’s the one crop that we always have plenty to spare. This year, I was particularly proud of them because I raised the plants from seed I had saved, so they were fully mine. But they would have died long ago without Chris’s regular watering and pruning. Even Sprout helps out, using his little can to water (mainly his shoes) and picking red tomatoes (that usually go from the branch right into his mouth). I wasn’t able to pick the tomatoes for the fair myself without a small person trying to steal half of them, so Chris did it for me and even dropped them off for judging. It was the perfect job to tap his fine dining training – as he said, “I’m actually really good at small, repetive motions to make things look just perfect.”
So walking up to the vegetable table at the Farm and Garden and Flowers Department was exciting for everyone. Spout was already thrilled that we got to ride a school bus from the parking lot, so this was yet another amazing thing of the day. I stopped breathing as I looked for our plate. First place was literally a five dollar prize that they probably haven’t increased since 1950, but it was the pride of it that mattered.
Our entry turned out to be pretty easy to find because it was the only one with the stems still on the tomatoes. Although person accepting the entries recommended to Chris remove them, but he was worried about bruising one in the process. While none of the stems fell off – which would have disqualified us – they were a little wilted, which detracted from the tomatoes’ deep red just a bit.
All of that considered, we received – an honorable mention ribbon. But hey, it was something! I was a little disappointed that we didn’t place in the top three or even five, but it was a solid showing for the first year participating.
It made me feel validated as a gardener. Even though I’ve grown pounds upon pounds of food for my family and raised enough seedlings to give away to others, this outside recognition of my skill was special. It felt like entering an exclusive – albeit quirky – club. It was a similar feeling to the first time my writing was published in print. Like the connection I feel to my neighborhood while gardening, it was the sense of contributing to the history and larger whole of the county’s Agriculture Reserve. As someone relatively new to gardening in the grand scheme of things, it also reminded me of how far I’ve come. Only four years ago, my neighbor was betting to her friend against my garden being successful. She’d be so proud to see my ribbon now.
We celebrated our recognition by looking at all of the animal exhibits. Many of the animals at the Fair are owned by 4H students, who raise them as projects. Sprout’s favorites were definitely the chickens and bunnies – they’re more his size and less overwhelming than the cattle.
From there, we abandoned all pretense of sustainability or “local food” and headed to the Carnival. Filling up on fried chicken on a stick, fried green tomatoes, mutant-large corn on the cob, and watermelon, we tried to prevent get-away attempts from an excited small child. Fortunately for him, the next stop was a Funhouse in the style of the one in Grease. Starting with the rickety stairs to the slide at the end, he ran through with a smile.
We ended our night with the county fair classic – the Ferris Wheel. I have a necklace with a picture of an old-fashioned Ferris Wheel on it, which I’ve been telling Sprout about for months. After 20 minutes of waiting, we stepped into the car. As the wheel rotated, it lifted us up high above the fairgrounds, each step up revealing a little more landscape. The other rides glowed blue, red, and green, lines and curves of neon. The exhibits we had been at earlier retreated in the distance, dark as the animals started to bed down. The pop music from the rides and the chattering of the crowds lessened to a low background accompaniment. Once in a while, I would glance over at Sprout, who was in Chris’s lap across from me. His eyes were wide, his mouth parted just slightly, not a smile, but his signature look of concentration. He just watched, as he always does.
And tonight, as all nights, he was watching Chris and I. He was watching our pride in our handiwork, just as he watched and helped us tend the plants. He watched our participation in the larger community, engaging with the 4H students. He watched as we enjoyed simple pleasures like the Funhouse and Ferris Wheel. While I rarely do things just to “be an example,” I hope that my whole life is one, on that night and all of them.
Lemons hung from an arch became a sun gate. A billowing blue sheet made silky ocean waves. Plastic streamers attached to a wooden pole transformed into a jellyfish. All of these images captivated the small children sitting around the “stage” of Imagination Stage’s show Acquarium, including my son.
Imagination Stage has been on my “to do” list with Sprout for a while, but the right opportunity didn’t come up until my friend emailed me two weeks ago. While my friends don’t have kids yet, their cousins were visiting from France with their 3 and 5 year old children. It seemed like the ideal opportunity.
We met them at the theater, located in downtown Bethesda. While it doesn’t have its own parking, it’s close to several garages and is less than a mile from the Metro. The theater has a cute alleyway next to it, decorated with huge multi-colored balls and metal swirls. It was perfect for Sprout to run up and down while we waited. They also had what looked like a really nice store, but it wasn’t open before the show.
Inside, the theater was a large, open floor space with some seating on risers beyond it. However, nearly all of the children and their parents were gathered around the performance space. Because we came in a little late, we were placed to the side, but the performers played to the entire audience as much as possible.
Like most theater for very little ones, there wasn’t much of a plot, but it was so enchanting that it didn’t matter. The story was a series of vignettes by the two main characters, Jack and Calypso, who were dressed like they were in a storybook version of Gilligan’s Island. It followed their journey through a full day to reach the fabled land of Aquarium, under the sea. After the “sun” rose, flowers needed to be planted in the garden, sheep needed to be herded, and the stars needed to come out.
Each of these different sequences was very interactive, helping engage even the antsiest of kids. Each child received a lemon and gave it to one character to hang on the arch. An adult helper from the audience handed out pieces of seaweed that magically bloomed into flowers with a pull on a piece of ribbon. The actors invited the children up to “rake” a piece of fake turf and “plant” their flowers under it. The cast managed the children beautifully, making it seem not like they were giving back their props but participating in the story. As far as I could tell, there was not a single meltdown, a huge accomplishment for this age group.
Throughout the performance, these interactive pieces were accompanied by lyrical monologues, goofy banter, and otherworldly props. While there were some silly jokes – mostly bad puns – much of the script was lovely, surreal free verse. It complemented the captivating imagery. I think the combination of the two would work even for children who are mostly non-verbal, as my friends’ nephews enjoyed it and they don’t even speak English.
The last two sequences were particularly enchanting. At “night,” the lead actress walked slowly around the edge of the crowd, holding a wheel with cut-outs, the lights down low. The reflective wheel scattered the spotlights, creating shimmering, twinkling stars on the floor and wall. As she walked and spun, she recited a poem that reminded me of some of the best children’s literature. Even I was mesmerized. While I’m usually looking at Sprout’s reaction, I just enjoyed the experience of wonder.
The show culminated in the final scene where they finally reached the oceanic Aquarium. The actors spread out a huge blue sheet across the entire floor, with all of the children and adults invited to take an edge and shake their hands up and down like the old parachute game. The actors tossed silver fish puppets onto the bouncing waves, making them dance and fly up in the air. Softly glowing blue lights and quiet music enhanced the underwater feel. When the lights finally came up, we sighed and blinked, emerging from a place of magic.
The only possible complaint I had is that the floor there is pretty hard, especially when a child insists on sitting on your lap for much of the performance. But that’s just a consequence of getting old, I suppose.
While we actually caught the last show of Aquarium, Imagination Stage regularly does shows throughout the year, including shows for very young children. It was a wonderful experience for the children and adults alike and I look forward to bringing Sprout to another show in the future.
I think I’m turning into the dad from Calvin and Hobbes. Except instead of our adventures “building character” for my kid, they are doing it for me! In our second camping trip, some things went very right compared to last time, but others went very, very wrong.
I tried hard to learn from last time, bringing both lower expectations and a few extra pieces of gear. Unfortunately, I repeated the very first mistake – look up where the campground itself is, not just the national park! As it turned out, the campground was literally two states over from our destination, Harper’s Ferry. As Harper’s Ferry sits on the intersection between West Virginia, Maryland and Virginia, thankfully it worked out to only a 20 minute detour.
My other efforts were more productive. We arrived there earlier, packed the car more efficiently, and set up faster than last time. We even had time the first day to head into town, eat ice cream, and gaze out over the meeting of Potomac and Shenandoah rivers, dotted with colorful inflatable rafts and tubes.
Not everything was quite so cheery though. Only two weeks ago, a fire ripped through several of the town’s historical wood and stone buildings. (Check out their GoFundMe page if you want to help.) A whole chunk of the block was black, charred and disintegrating, right in the middle of their tourist season. Rather than ignore it, we explained to Sprout both what happened and how people were helping each other recover. In particular, we connected it with the theme of LeVar Burton’s book The Rhino Who Swallowed a Storm, which has the theme of how friends can help each other heal after traumatic situations. While I don’t think he really understood the magnitude of what happened, it was good practice for future conversations like this.
Other parts of the trip also reminded me of both the value as well as the challenges of neighbors. Camping creates an easy intimacy, with everyone sharing the twisted perspective that it’s a really awesome idea to sleep on the ground protected only by a little fabric.
This camaraderie was doubly-intense in this particular campground, which didn’t have assigned campsites, only a shared space under a grove of trees with a scattering of picnic tables and fire pits. Sprout was an immediate point of connection, with fellow campers commenting on his cuteness and encouraging him to pet their dogs. A kayaking instructor putting boats into the river even chimed into my conversation with Sprout, saying that he started bringing his son with him in the boat when he was only 6 months old. But despite his encouragement, we were content with watching dogs fetching balls, wading in up to our knees, examining clam and snail shells, and spotting tiny fish darting about.
But not all of our interactions were quite so pleasant. It started with our neighbors on one side blasting Southern rock deep into the night, with a call out about every 15 minutes to “Turn it up!” I didn’t bother getting Sprout to bed until quiet hours were supposed to start at 10 pm. All the white noise in the world wasn’t going to drown that out.
At 10 pm, I held out hope when it paused momentarily, then lost it again when it started back up a few minutes later. When those people finally went to bed at 11, our neighbors on the other side picked up the slack with an enthusiastic game of beer pong and multiple rounds of the Happy Birthday song.
Normally, I’d be mildly annoyed but understanding. However, I was sharing a tent with a two-year-old who wanted to join in the fun and knew there was absolutely nothing we could do to stop him. Not long after I put him down and left the tent, Chris commented, “Well, there’s not much he can do but sit in there and play with his toys. At least until he finds the zipper.” Literally seconds after the words left his mouth, we heard a zip and saw a little blond head sticking out. So much for that plan.
I headed in there to lie down with him, to no avail. Chris eventually got bored and joined me, but all we got for our efforts was a toddler climbing on us like it was his own personal bounce house. Across the tent, over Chris’s legs, up his chest, plowing into my head, back to his own sleeping bag and around again. And again and again. It was a toddler rave, complete with uncoordinated movements and the drug of severe sleep deprivation. But I couldn’t blame Sprout for his shenanigans – after all, they were clearly having a good time outside! Unlike last time, when I nearly melted down myself, I just shrugged and laughed. (Even when Sprout imitated my tendency to call out to my husband in whiny frustration – he yelled “Chrisssss!” at the door. Of course, Chris thought it was hysterical.)
Once the party finally calmed down at 12:30, Sprout was still way too wound to calm down voluntarily, so Chris stuck him in the car and drove around until he finally passed out.
Camping should be celebratory – of nature and people – but I do hope it’s not quite that celebratory in the future.
“Eat your vegetables!” is a stereotypical parenting phrase, but I want my kid to not just eat them, but also know where they come from. While we’re farmers’ market regulars, the Montgomery County Farm Tour offered a unique opportunity last weekend to get hands-on with some plants and animals.
Of the 19 farms participating, we decided to visit just two, considering limits on time and toddlers’ attention span.
Our first stop was Homestead Farm, which offers pick-your-own fruit, as well as a number of vegetables at its farm market. While they offered produce for sale, they also had quite a few animals, which were a big hit with the kiddie set.
I especially loved the set-up they had for their goats. Goats are known for their climbing skills and complete lack of fear. They’re notorious for scrambling up on roofs. Rather than fighting this instinct, Homestead had the brilliant idea of giving them something to climb onto. Above our heads were two platforms connected by a walkway. There were even little baskets that visitors could use to haul food up to the goats!
Other animals at the farm included chickens, pigs and a llama. Sprout gave us a running commentary – “Chickens inside!” he’d proclaim. They seemed to be his favorite for some reason – perhaps the crowing or their feathers’ pretty colors. I tried to use this fondness to convince Chris we should raise chickens, but my suggestion was thoroughly ignored.
The orchard was next up, ready for all of our peach-picking needs. To keep him busy, I assigned Sprout the responsibility of placing – not throwing or dropping – the peaches into the box. Of course, it took a couple of tries (and then a couple more) before he moved from violently bruising them to putting them down gently. Despite his assignment, he wanted to actually pick some peaches himself. Thankfully, a lot of the peach trees were short, with fruit within his reach. While I was highly skeptical of his peach selection abilities, he picked quite a few that were perfectly ripe. There must have just been so many that it was hard to go wrong. Like any time you go fruit picking, our hands were bigger than our stomachs. Peach jam and cobbler, anyone?
Our second stop on the farm tour was Star Gazing Farm, a sanctuary for abused and abandoned farm animals. As the animals roam very free there, we were allowed to walk right up to them. Again, the chickens were popular, with Sprout exclaiming, “Chicken, chicken!” and looking interested when the guide showed us a freshly-laid egg. I took the opportunity to connect it to one of his books, Me…Jane, which shows a young Jane Goodall watching a hen laying an egg.
The farm must have made him feel safe, because Sprout even worked up the nerve to touch one of the animals. Every time we’ve seen farm animals, he’s been perfectly content to look and not touch. He backs off quickly if the animal even looks at him. But for whatever reason, he judged the sheep was unthreatening and gingerly reached out a hand to stroke its wool. After a few pets, he declared, “Soft.”
Besides looking at the animals, the farm also had a sheep shearing demonstration and offered a variety of knitted goods made by volunteers for sale. The hats and sweaters were ridiculously inexpensive for hand-made goods, probably less than the price of the wool. I got winter hats for myself and Sprout for $25!
We rounded out the day with a little picnic of PB&J sandwiches, lemonade and watermelon. Our tour of local agriculture offered a small taste of the many farms in our area and what they produce.