A Rockville Community Halloween: Croyden Creep and Thomas Farm Community Center

I have always preferred the children’s version of Halloween to the typical “adult” one. Dressing up as actual characters or at least creative one instead of a “sexy fill-in-the-blank.” Parades instead of overpriced bars. Stuffing your face with candy instead of TPing yards. At its best, this more innocent version is one communities can embrace and support, creating the atmosphere for a fun and fanciful holiday. Fortunately, our town has found a variety of ways for families to enjoy Halloween together.

Rising moon above orange autumn trees

For us, Halloween started a full week ahead of time with the Croydon Creep at the town’s Nature Center. Arriving there, we drove past a huge line of cars parked on the side of the road, spilling out from the center’s teeny parking lot. We soon discovered its popularity was justified. From a spinning prize wheel to coloring Halloween treat bags, the Center had a ton to do, for the reasonable price of $5 a kid and accompanying adults free.

A man in a squirrel costume at the

My favorite activity was the “spooky trail,” which started with a campfire and each child receiving a mini-flashlight. Along the path, adults dressed as a squirrel, spider, firefly, and bat each shared a few facts about their biology and gave the children a treat appropriate to their animal: sunflower seeds, a sticky spider, a glow necklace and vampire fangs. I even learned a few things, like the fact that black squirrels and gray squirrels are variants of the same species. Of course, Sprout’s favorite part was flickering the mini-flashlight on and off, blinding me.

The night ended with a magic show, where Sprout sat up front with the other kids and we were consigned to the seats in the back. It was the first time Sprout sat by himself in a separate section. I kept straining to get a glimpse and nudging Chris for status updates, hoping he wasn’t disrupting anyone or wandering away. But he was the perfect little audience member, staying seated and clapping when he was supposed to. As is often true, he wasn’t nearly as nervous as his mama. Instead, the entire way home, he talked about how the magician “turned a bunny into a balloon.” While it was turning a balloon into a real, live bunny rabbit (he has a bit of difficulty with chronological order), it was an impressive trick even if you aren’t two.

The next Saturday, we had a full schedule for Halloween proper. Unfortunately, we were missing a key element of Sprout’s costume – the ears. He was reprising his part as Rocket Raccoon, making the most out of the costume I made him for Baltimore Comic Con. While we had his orange pajamas, rocket backpack/armor, and tail, the ears were missing. Ripping apart the house and the car, we looked in the stroller, under the seats, in the couch, under the beds, and in all of his toy boxes. I suspect they’re somewhere in the Baltimore Convention Center. Instead, we made do with a pair of bear ears my mom made for his Teddy Bear Picnic themed birthday party.

Walls of the

Our first stop was a party at one of our town’s community centers, with snacks, crafts, games, and even a magic show (non-coincidentally, the same magician). It also had the most low key “haunted house” I’ve ever seen, with a clever use of black-light paint and a baffling but not actually frightening anti-gambling climax. While we worked on the craft, I enjoyed making a little girl’s day. She was clearly dressed as Gamora and I commented, “Nice Gamora costume.” With a big smile, she responded, “Finally! Someone knows who I am!” It felt like when the kid at Comic Con told Sprout, “Your mom is the best. She can kick the butt of anyone in the universe.”

A giant bunny snuggled up against two black teacup pigs

But both the best and least Halloweeny activity was the petting zoo. Along with alpacas – which Sprout has seen online but never in person – they had a giant rabbit with teacup pigs, making for one of the cutest combinations of animals I’ve ever seen.

A person in a Godzilla costume

There were some great costumes at both events. At the nature center, there was a woman with a baby in a carrier going as Cookie Monster – with the baby as the cookie! A whole family went as characters from Monsters Inc, with the dad as Sully and the little girl as Boo. Two twin toddlers had matching Wonder Woman outfits. At the community center, one family went the House of El with Jor-El and Kara in white lab coats following a crawling toddler Superman. Another infant was the most adorable little Supergirl I ever saw. An adult dressed as Godzilla was impressive enough that Sprout gave him a wide berth.

Following on that barrage of children was our adjacent neighborhood’s Halloween parade. Unfortunately, logistics got the best of us. Between underestimating how long it would take to get ready at the house and the lengthy process of Chris putting on his costume once we got there, the parade was long gone. In fact, most of the families had already made their way around the block and back to the starting point. Shrugging our shoulders, we stood in line to go through their “haunted house” for candy, which had far too many loud, sudden “screaming” decorations for Sprout to handle. I made my way through while they stood at the exit. Despite our absence from the parade, Chris got a number of accolades for his costume. When we went to vote on Tuesday, some of the volunteers recognized him from the parade and were asking him questions about it.

We wrapped up the night trick-or-treating, while Sprout still had any energy left. He continued to be credulous at the concept of trick-or-treating, repeating, “Knock on doors and neighbors give you candy?” At every door, we coached him to say “trick-or-treat.” While he repeated it dutifully while the door was closed, he promptly forgot it as soon as the candy was in sight. However, he did say “thank you,” which was a major win in and of itself. The only thing that was disappointing was how few of our neighbors participated. They’re usually community-oriented – our yearly block party gets a good crowd – but 4/5 of the houses on our block had the lights out. It was a little heartbreaking every time Sprout walked away from a house softly muttering, “No one home.”

Halloween in my town reminded me both of how great the community services can be and how they also require public support. On one hand, while the parade and “haunted house” were on town property, it was all run by neighborhood volunteers. This great tradition simply wouldn’t exist without these people’s time and effort. On the other end of the spectrum, I overheard a man at the community center party complain that it was overpriced and “should have been a dollar.” This was in a town where 3D movies are regularly $15 and the average home price is $529,000. While I understand that $4 a kid can be a lot for some people, I got impression from his attitude that events put on by the city were inherently worth less than those put on by businesses. While unrelated to the city, I was saddened by the number of people who decided not to give out candy, although I did understand that a lot of people were out on Saturday night. Trick-or-treating is the major part of the community aspect of Halloween, but it’s reliant on neighborhood participation to make it fun.

I know not everyone has children, but I do think that we all have a responsibility to provide recreation and services to people of all ages. Youth classes and senior centers, teenage basketball leagues and middle-aged running clubs. I’m so glad my town has such great programming, but I hope that everyone can think of the bigger picture to continue to support it.

After all, I think most people like the world better with more treats than tricks.

When Good Plans Go Bad

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.

Front of a fire truck

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.

In Defense of Scary Stories for Kids

in-defense-of-scary-stories-for-kids

My job as a parent is not to protect my child from monsters; it’s to teach him how to fight them. Because, one day, sooner or later, I won’t be able to protect him, whether that’s because of physical distance or just a stage in life. So in the meantime, I want to expose him to children’s stories with monsters, stories that give you nightmares and make you hide behind the sofa.

A few months ago, I read The Ocean at the End of the Lane, a beautiful book dripping with childhood half-remembered thoughts and fears. Neil Gaiman is one of my favorite authors, who manages to make the mythic so very personal. His stories – even and especially those for children – tap into narratives bigger than us, dredge the dark parts of our minds and bring out the terror, but also, the strength, courage, and beauty. He says that parents are more scared by his book Coraline than children, because it’s about parents’ fears as much as their children’s. Similarly, a quote from Maurice Sendak at the beginning of The Ocean at the End of the Lane expresses this balance between children’s and adults’ fears perfectly: “I remember my own childhood vividly. I knew terrible things. But I knew I mustn’t let adults know I knew. It would scare them.”

Much of my other favorite media covers the same territory: Doctor Who, Lost, SeaQuest DSV, X-Files and Harry Potter. Unsurprisingly, my taste in children’s literature runs along the same lines. As the source of this blog’s title, Where the Wild Things Are is a favorite of mine. Notably, the Wild Things aren’t the scariest thing in the book – Max’s loneliness is. But it’s also what draws him home on the end.

Reading and watching these movies and books, I want Sprout to feel fear, understand its roots, and learn how to channel it. As the Doctor says in Listen, fear is a superpower. When you fear something, you know that it’s important for some reason. Maybe the fear is of something physically dangerous like a rattlesnake or as socially harmful as being seen as stupid. What we fear and how we react to it reveals our values, even if we don’t want to admit them. Being afraid of people who are a different race is racist. Being afraid of looking stupid means we value intelligence, while fear of looking mean means we value compassion. We need to look long and hard at our fears, whether to change something about who we are or find ways to confront them.

Besides monsters and fear, the other common element in all of these stories are protagonists who face the dangers armed with skill, bravery, sharp wits and compassion. Many of them explore unknown places and meet different cultures with a sense of wonder and joy. To quote the under-appreciated Craig Ferguson on Doctor Who, the show is about “The triumph of intellect and romance over brute force and cynicism.” Although I enjoy superheroes and their drag-out brawls, they can never have my heart like these non-violent (or minimally violent) heroes.

While stories about ordinary children facing ordinary problems have their place, stories about protagonists facing foes bigger than our reality have a special role. To children, everything is bigger than them. So if this character can resolve this huge problem, maybe they can too.

I want Sprout to learn from these characters because the tactics they use against fantastical monsters are applicable in real life. While he will never have a (properly functioning) sonic screwdriver, he can be kind and smart. He can approach people who are different from him not with fear, but a respectful interest in listening to their stories.

And he can work together with them. Heroes in these stories never work alone – they almost always work in teams. They may feel alone at times, but they know they can find refuge in the welcome of their friends and family. They realize there is no such thing as a lone wolf, that no one can do good individually, unconnected from community.

These stories provide patterns to help my son band together with others to form communities outside the damaging systems of power, whether the toxic politics of high school or the restrictions of our industrial food system. Open mics and community gardens alike can be refuges and places we can break down walls.

I want my son to experience scary stories because they provide a foundation to build a life where he can stand up against the true monsters of this world: hate, injustice, greed and unjustified fear. If you don’t learn to deal with make-believe monsters, how can you handle the real ones?

What were your favorite scary stories as a kid? What did you get out of them?

Fun at the Renaissance Faire for All Ages: 8 Tips for Attending with Young Children

Photo: Picture of a woman on stilts dressed in green robes and a flower crown at the Maryland Renaissance Festival; Text "8 Tips for Attending Renaissance Faires with Young Children"

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.

Photo of a performer on a unicycle with a boy on his back

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.

Jester dressed in multi-colored clothing blowing bubbles using only her hands

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.

Book Club: Why Richard Scarry’s Busytown Has the Worst City Government Ever

Book Club – quirky critical and social justice takes on children’s literature. Otherwise known as what happens when someone interested in pop culture and political analysis has read the same bedtime story for the 100th time.

Richard Scarry’s Busytown has the most incompetent municipal government I’ve ever seen, despite the fact that I live very close to Washington D.C. The urban planning is an utter disaster, the roads make Beijing’s highways look orderly, and the safety standards and training are non-existant. Urban designers take note – except for its astonishingly resilient citizens, Busytown is everything you don’t want your city to be.

To start with, the city’s traffic patterns and the resulting crashes are atrocious. We have two Busytown books (Cars and Trucks and Things that Go and Lowly Worm’s Applecar), both of which feature multiple car crashes or near-misses. For example, one accident involves at least 17 different vehicles, including a squirting mustard truck, a chinaware truck, a flour truck, a whipped cream truck, a tomato juice truck, and an egg truck. While thankfully, “no one was badly hurt” but it will “probably take a Million Years” for the mechanic to fix everything.

Scan from Cars and Trucks and Things that Go of a huge crash

The roads all appear to be multi-lane with no actual stripes to distinguish between them. There are few or no traffic lights or stop signs, with individual police officers directing traffic at overcrowded intersections. There are multiple turn-offs with no merge lanes, like drive through hamburger stands on busy highways. The roads appear to be constantly under construction, with minimal markings and barriers. The roads themselves go through dangerous areas with a lack of supporting infrastructure, as “shortcuts through the mountains” result in dangerous falling rocks. (The roads also appear to cut right across ski trails, which can’t be safe for the skiers.)

Beyond the physical infrastructure, there is clearly little municipal support for regulation. Enforcement of traffic rules is minimal, with one clearly dangerous driver being pursued by a single (but very determined) bike cop in one book and another completely ignored in another. Vehicles vary in size from tiny pencil cars driven by mice to huge multi-story tourist buses. Many of them appear to not pass modern safety or emissions standards, including pickle and banana cars. One even transforms into a helicopter and balloon, while having no obvious method of propulsion.

Scan from Cars and Trucks and Things that Go of a tractor that's fallen in a pond

The complete disregard for safety extends to the municipal staff, who clearly need better training and performance standards. They make the beleaguered Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority look staggeringly competent. A crane driver steers straight into a lake. (That wasn’t very smart, indeed.)

A steamroll driver loses control of his truck, which runs over several cars. A car carrier operator drops a car into the ocean. Six different dump trucks in one area dump their loads at the same time because of vague misheard directions from a citizen.

Scan from Cars and Trucks and Things that Go of cars run over

Lastly, the city is extremely auto-centric. While it’s not safe for drivers, it’s disastrous for bicyclists and pedestrians. There are sidewalks, but cars veer onto them on a regular basis, knocking over parking meters. There are no bike lanes or separated paths. There is a police officer on a bicycle, but even she rides on sidewalks to avoid the multiple crashes. Instead of bicycles, even the children are gifted toy cars that they’re allowed to drive on the road!

While Busytown looks pro-urban upon first glance, it is a classic example of a poorly planned, shoddily managed semi-suburban area. It is certainly a product of the time. Parents interested in finding good neighborhoods for their children and city planners alike can learn from this disastrous mess.

Deja Vu All Over Again: Revisiting Favorite Places

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.
Giant fake spiderweb with children climbing on it

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.

Multi-colored play house at Cabin John park with multiple rooms that kids can crawl between.

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.

How to Parent like an Outdoors Guide

How to Parent Like an Outdoors Guide (Photo: White woman with two kids in front of her on a hiking trail)

Watching my five-year-old run down a rocky hiking path, I winced. I wanted to say “Be careful!” so badly. But I thought for a second and tweaked it just a bit.

“If you run, you’ll hit loose rocks,” I yelled. “If you don’t like walking down, you can walk sideways, like this,” I added, demonstrating the sidestepping technique.

He slowed down and started walking instead. “But it’s faster to run!” he explained as I caught up to him.

“I know, but you know what happens if you hit a loose rock? Bump bump bump bump,” I said, illustrating the bouncing down a trail with my hand. “That would hurt.”

While I’m not as outdoorsy as some (like these folks who hiked the Grand Canyon with their three-year-old), we’ve brought our little ones on their fair share of outdoors adventures. While I think just being outdoors teaches kids amazing lessons, parenting in the wild has helped me a lot as a mom.  Because helicopter parenting is far too restrictive and totally free-range is a little too hands-off, I’m somewhere in-between.

Instead, I see myself in the role of parent as an outdoor guide, like one you have for hiking or rock-climbing. Although I’ve never been a fully licensed guide, I’ve led hikes, belayed climbers on rock-climbing walls, and taught field ecology to elementary and junior high students. You have to be quick-witted, skilled at the Art of Being Prepared for Anything, and well-versed in both first-aid and outdoors skills. Most importantly, you want to bring people on and back from an adventure safely, where they both learn skills and a lot about themselves.

Here’s what I learned that applied to parenting:

Continue reading

Guest Post on Simplicity Parenting: The Evening Walk

I have a guest post up on the Simplicity Parenting website, the blog of the parenting book of the same name. While I don’t agree with everything in the book, it has a good framework for simplifying your entire family’s life to focus on what you really deem important. My post is about one of our family’s major rituals – walking to the pedestrian bridge near us to watch the trains going by – and how that’s affected my perspective on the world.

Here’s the first paragraph:

“It always begins the same way: a small voice insisting “This way!” often accompanied by a firm pull of the hand. Even if I wanted to, it would be hard to say no to my regular evening walks with my two-year-old son. Because this is no ordinary walk – it’s to a bridge that runs over a railroad track, allowing us to ‘watch trains.’ But I’ve found a simple pleasure in our walks there and back, even if they sometimes make us late for dinner.”

Read the rest on the Simplicity Parenting blog!

(Funnily enough, these walks no longer start with him saying “this way,” as his language skills have improved markedly since I first wrote the post. Now he usually says, “Watch trains!” The rest of the post is still true though.)

A Nature Playground in the Suburbs: Constitution Gardens Park in Gaithersburg

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.

Photo of Constitution Gardens, which has a large sand area, pathed path, and wooden buildings

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.

Log sections for climbing next to slide

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.