Summer vacation

It all sounded so wholesome and Walton-esque at the time: Our family was not going to succumb to the lure of the built-in DVD player in our minivan. Instead of staring slack-jawed at Sponge Bob, our kids would talk to us for hours as we merrily traversed to our summer vacation destinations (their little jaws get ample resting time at home anyway). Perhaps we’d even break into spontaneous song as we created warm, fuzzy family memories. As we drove away from the Honda dealership in our new, DVD-less minivan, we felt proud, and almost Amish.

Then came the time for us to actually take a family vacation. Correction—not vacation. Vacations conjure notions of lazy afternoons spent napping, evenings sipping piña coladas and competing in limbo contests, and mornings that don’t begin until noon. Our first big family retreat was to Sesame Place in Pennsylvania, a 2 1/2-hour drive from Bethesda if you take the scenic, endlessly stretching, gray highway route. I can honestly report that Sponge Bob’s presence wasn’t missed in the slightest for the first 90 seconds.

After that, my husband and I would’ve wept from joy at the sight of his perky little square pants. Here’s a simple, indisputable fact: Kids and long car rides go together about as well as spit-out pieces of Bubble Yum and floor mats, tiny bladders and traffic jams, migraines and repeated shrieks of “He hit me!” Oh—and no one in our family can hold a tune.

We finally arrived at Sesame Place, and then the fun really began. In many ways, our family vacations still resemble the languid Caribbean jaunts we took pre-kids. The cost for a week at a luxury villa in Tortola roughly equals 36 hours at Sesame Place, especially if you spring for fries in a plastic, decapitated-but-still-smiling Elmo head ($48, ketchup costs extra).

As is customary in our family, the children and adults had slightly different visions for our summer vacation. My husband and I had one simple wish that could be boiled down to this frantic plea: Take a picture with Elmo! Please! One freaking picture so we can prove to everyone what a great vacation we had! Take the damn picture or no more decapitated Elmo head fries! Our children sensed an upcoming test of wills, and dug in for the long haul. Behind us grew a long line of grim-faced parents and struggling, wailing kids while the presumably stoned teenager in the Elmo costume fainted from heat exhaustion, and no one noticed. Finally our kids reluctantly posed with Elmo, then leveraged their acquiescence into an excuse to buy anything they wanted for the rest of the trip (Sesame Place hat— $156; replacement hat for when your kid loses his five seconds later—priceless, if it stops your kid from crying).

The next summer we set off, still DVD-less, determined to add to our cherished collection of family vacation memories. This time we went to the Jersey Shore, wisely avoiding the uninspiring Pennsylvania highway for the aesthetically superior New Jersey Turnpike. Many hours of deeply fulfilling, Sponge Bob-less conversation later (“He hit me!” “He hit me first!”), we unloaded beach chairs, towels, SPF 900 sunscreen, water noodles, life vests, pails, juice boxes, hats and extra Tshirts, and set off like coastal Sherpas while our children each toted a single plastic shovel and whined about it. We repeated this exercise for five days, then struggled home and spent weeks getting the sand out of our minivan and embracing Sponge Bob with a newfound zeal.

Rehoboth Beach, Hershey Park (where I gained 10 pounds just by inhaling), Ocean City, the North Carolina shore—if it’s within driving distance from Bethesda, we’ve been there during the past few years. Here’s what I’ve learned (other than that ice cubes work really well for getting Bubble Yum off floor mats): Only the von Trapps sing in harmony on long family journeys.

How could I have forgotten the endless vacation drives of my youth, when my brothers and I drew lines across our station wagon’s seats and viciously punished each other for crossing them, then whined until our parents stopped at 7-11 and bought us cherry Slurpees—which we promptly spilled into the cracks between the car seats? Yet somehow, even though our family’s vacations never turn out like I plan, I’ve managed to tuck away plenty of unexpected memories to savor in the years to come: Two little boys, exhausted from toting their shovels an entire block, curling up like puppies in the sand as the waves lull them to sleep; 6-year-old Jack conquering his fear and riding the tallest roller coaster, then yelling to do it again; little Will’s delighted, ice-cream-wreathed smile as a parade passes by.

This year we’re planning the mother of all trips, the Holy Grail of the family summer vacation: Disney World. And I know this journey will be different. No more bickering, just the blessed sounds of a happy family at peace with itself and the universe. Because we’re leaving the kids behind.

Just kidding—actually, we’ve discovered a fabulous new device, one that has so revolutionized family travel that a group of us parents may petition to have its inventor nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize: The portable DVD player! I wonder if the Amish know about it?