Saturday we met up with a friend of mine from college (yes, from waaaaayyy back when), who, even though I still picture Bajeerah as a 16-year-old college freshman (uh-huh. I said 16) with a determination that intimidated me just a little bit, is now a married working mom of a spunky 3-year-old with strikingly pretty blue eyes. Crazy, how time messes with the memories we have in our heads.
She and her husband live outside Philadelphia, so we met up at a halfway point, which just happened to be a certain amusement park that caters to small children in Lancaster County. It was a nice excuse to get away, relax a little, let David do some male-patterned bonding over craft beer with Bajeerah’s husband, Fred. But, the kids.
The kids! Oh my goodness, the kids. Can I just tell you how much fun it is to go to an amusement park with not just one, not just two, but three children who absolutely love to ride rides? I mean, I knew Talia and Saoirse would have a blast, which was nice, but Quinn. The Mighty Quinn! The child has no fear. Those girls did not stop smiling the entire time they were on something moving, whether a pony, or flume, or some sort of bumblee bee thing. Just, smiling. All day. Even while begging to ride something else.
Saoirse and I were on line for a roller coaster. As we approached the entrance to the ride, I leaned down and asked her where she wanted to sit. “You can see more in the front of the train,” I told her, “but it feels like you’re going faster in the back. What do you want to do?” She didn’t even pause, and the next thing we knew, we were locked into the back seat, me and my little girl, giggling around the turns.
I love kids. When they’re smiling, everything is right in the world.