The first thing you must do is imagine you are four years old again. Think back to when you had no worries or cares. Picture a time in your life when you could easily do a back bend or jump on a trampoline without peeing your pants or throwing you back out. Now, think, really think about what kind of a place would have been paradise to you at that age.
My son has found his heaven on earth.
Upon entering my parent's backyard, one is meet with a rock fountain that happily burbles and slops and acts as if it had a personality all it's own. The children are allowed to play freely in the water with no danger. It was designed for small people.
As if a child might become board with nothing to do in such a fanciful place, my mother has added an airplane teeter-totter and a large cement pad with unlimited amounts of sidewalk chalk and a menagerie of various bikes.
We will be here in Shangri-La for two whole weeks. There will be lots of Popsicles and sweets, smuggled to the boy on the sly, before meals because my mother has transformed into an entirely strange woman, who indulges children with sugar and sits for hours to play and color with crayons while the wash needs to be done. There will be forts built out of old blankets, and serious meetings held inside addressing things like how many daddy long leg spiders live in the yard and the official rules to kick-the-can. There will be hamburgers and a cherry pit spit contest and fireworks.