Another go ‘round

What is it about carousels that gets even big kids excited? We went to National Harbor for a friend’s daughter’s birthday on Saturday — held at the Carousel and playground by the water. Ruby’s daughter, Elliott, is a big carousel fan. What better place to celebrate turning three?

We’ve entered the era of children’s birthday parties, and I’m totally here for it. Not only do I love cupcakes and celebrations in general, but I appreciate having a few hours’ worth of scheduled distraction for my two busy children. Recent playground parties have been fun for all of us. Though my husband and I are right there with them, all up in their sweaty faces, they’re being entertained without us jumping through hoops.

Oliver and Hadley, like most kids, are big carousel fans. Ollie sobbed in abject disappointment after we pulled him down from a carved zebra at the zoo last spring. We wound up waiting in a long line to buy another carousel ticket, then waited again to ride for a second time. (In hindsight, that was indulgent. But man, I like seeing my kids happy.)

Hadley is at an age where the littlest things delight her. As the

carousel is a decidedly bigger thing, let’s just say she was positively thrilled. I knew we were going to have a bear of a time getting her down from her flying eagle, but the best part was . . . we didn’t have to! Two hours of unlimited rides, friends. Even I was excited.

After standing next to the kids for a few turns, I embraced my inner preschooler and climbed up next to Oliver. That motion put my carousel horse on a stress test with my big-girl weight, but he passed (thank goodness — that’s an embarrassment I don’t need). Spencer tried to keep a grip on Hadley “I Do It, I Do It!” Johnson, but she flipped out whenever his hand came near the protective “reins.”

Around and around we went. Ollie and Hadley bounced from animal to animal, waving to Miss Ruby as we whipped by. We rotated between tigers, horses, polar bears — even a dragon. I haven’t seen my kids that happy in a while.

And I was happy, too. In the hubbub of deadlines and bills and shifting schedules, kids let us relive these simple pleasures. Goodness knows I’m not always willing or able to pull up a square of carpet to play “Elmo and Cookie” with Hadley, but I do try. I don’t want their early memories of me to be only sorting mail or checking my phone.

I know we’re in the golden years of them wanting to spend time with their dad and me . . . and they’re not yet at a point of wanting to really spend time with each other. So I want to be there for them. That’s all I really do want.

The sun climbed higher and higher on Saturday — 90 and rising by noon. The joys of running on the playground, pausing only for donuts and Dippin’ Dots, were wearing thin. By the time Ellie opened her gifts and we loaded everyone back into the van, we were all sweaty and ready to snooze. The kids fell asleep in minutes — another advantage of an active morning.

But before that, on our fifth (sixth? eighth?) turn, we were just a happy lot enjoying the only breeze to be found on the carousel. Family-friendly tunes play during the ride, and a Rihanna song from the movie “Home” — a favorite of Ollie’s two summers ago — suddenly came on.

He doesn’t remember it, but I do. We watched “Home” on repeat in the early months of Hadley’s life, back when I was home myself with a newborn and toddler. Ollie loved “Boov,” the aliens who accidentally invade Earth, though we haven’t seen or talked about it since he abruptly moved on to something new.

“I wanna dance in the dark and never stop. We can light up the night like shooting stars,” crooned Rihanna, and Oliver smiled at my goofy singalong. Then he reached out a hand. I took my son’s fingers in mine, the breeze blowing our matching curls around. He wasn’t afraid. I guess he just wanted to be connected to me, his silly mother. I still know every word of that song.

Popping into the sky on a nearby horse, Hadley giggled next to Spence, who was still trying unsuccessfully to hold her in place. There was such simple joy in their expressions.

The little moments are the big ones, as they say.

And I held on.