Over Thanksgiving weekend Roger and I took the kids for a day in downtown Denver. We started out by throwing a football around at Civic Center Park on a gorgeous and sunny late-morning (Reed’s pick). At Tessa’s urging we then we switched to a volleyball, counting to see how many volleys we could get in a row (the mom may or may not be the weak link in that scenario).
Roger got to pick the restaurant where we had a yummy and healthy lunch, and then it was Mama’s turn to choose a place.
We walked to the new History Colorado Center, paid our admission and spent hours learning about life in Colorado in earlier decades. There were dozens of interactive exhibits, engaging for both kids and adults. Tessa and Reed got to drive a Model T and work in a town’s general store. We rode down a mine shaft and learned how to plant and detonate dynamite. We heard a storyteller recount her summers at Lincoln Hills, “the country’s only western resort accessible to African-Americans.” We tried ski jumping down a mountain (I made it 300 feet once but crashed and burned the second time).
But the funnest (and funniest) part was when we had our pictures taken for a 1920s yearbook in the Colorado plains town of Keota. These silly photos sealed the awesomeness into our day.
Did I gain two children? Nope. Reed snapped three photos, each of them wackier than the last. Even if I were in the worst mood in the world, one look at these mementos (especially my second “daughter”) would curl up the sides of my mouth. In fact I’m laughing quite hard as I type this last word!