Trip To Vermont

Matthew is roused from a deep sleep when the car pulls to a stop. “Fire truck,” he mumbles remembering the last thing he saw before his eyes closed. We are spending the weekend in Vermont and had the good sense to leave during his bedtime hour. It is just Matthew, myself, and Sarah staying in the condo which her parents own, which I have spent many weekends over the years, the first time being when I was in 7th grade, and the last time before now being when I was pregnant. Inside a jumbo stuffed Bear in the Blue house is sitting in an arm chair to greet us. Sarah takes out some chic drinking glasses, with her initials carved into the side of hers, and pours us some water. We guzzle it down as though we walked instead of drove for the last three hours.

I set the pack-n-play up in the room that I will be sleeping in. Once I lure Matt away the kitchen to tuck him into bed, the child latch free pantry being his playground over the next couple of days, I then curl up in my own bed with a novel. Already I can feel the little daily stresses of life melting away.

The next morning Matthew slept to a reasonable hour, which was good seeing that I read to an unreasonable hour the night before. We drove out to a whimsical place called Santa’s Land. It is an interesting place with the whole winter wonderland theme obviously, but also kiddie rides, playgrounds, animals, and old fire trucks for kids to climb on. The rides were included in the next to nothing ticket price. Matthew rode a kiddie ride on his own for the first time, climbed up the highest slides, and fed a goat some hay, but was terrified by the sight of a caged peacock spreading its wings before us. He cried and quivered, and then refused to walk past the cage until I carried him.

Next we drive to a swimming lake with a wonderful wooden playground. Unlike other lakes we’ve been to this summer, this one doesn’t have fish swimming in the shallow waters, ranking it at the top of my list. It feels cleaner to me somehow. Matthew surprises me by spending more time in the water instead of the sand, which for the most part of this summer has been the opposite. I tried not to meddle when Matthew took it upon himself to sit with an older boy who had spent the afternoon collecting and sorting rocks. I worried Matthew would take the rocks from the boy but instead he listened to the boy chat about which ones he liked the best and then later started a collection of his own.

That night Sarah and I play bored games and snack on chocolate while Matthew watches television and snacks from a container of plain raisins that he horded from the pantry. When we are washing up for bed it starts to rain hard. “Boom Booms!” Matthew announces with vigor as he has inherited his mother’s love of thunderstorms.

Sunday we make a stop to the Ben and Jerry’s factory before heading home. Before we even get to the ice cream eating part, we make spin art for free, play on the playground, and visit the flavor graveyard, an area dedicated to retired ice cream flavors, complete with headstones for them. Then of course we ate ice cream. On the walk back to the car Matthew plays with the rubber bracelet he got at the gift shop that reads, “Peace, Love, and Ice Cream.” Those words sum up our trip to Vermont for me.