The shrieks arise from all sides, as we, strangers all of us, jump in a completely unrehearsed, perfectly synchronized dance of dread. It’s an instinctive scream, helpless in its futility.
pushing babies in swings and chasing toddlers while wiping sweat from flushed faces.
They’re meant to be spent indoors, in blessed air-conditioned rooms, with cups of ice water and smoothies and freeze pops. But my kids never got the memo.
So there I was, once again arm-twisted into this trip. Pushing the baby in the swing and chasing the toddler and wiping sweat and coaxing them to “please, let’s leave, it’s too hot.”
Ten minutes after agreeing to “only one more time on the slide,” the heat got to them, too.
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