My husband and I met in the Fall of 1996. In those 20 years, my in-laws have always lived in the same house in La Plata, Maryland. Last week was the very first time I had the pleasure of spending time at the town’s Train Station Museum. In fact, it was the first time I have spent any significant amount of time in their quaint downtown area. To be fair, I can completely blame this on my husband. As I am not a native to Southern Maryland, I have asked him numerous times over the years to show me around La Plata. He has always given me the impression that we’ve seen it all. From now on, I plan to ask my in-laws to give me the tour.
Last week was my daughter’s spring break and, I must say, it was glorious. We had the most beautiful sunny and warm weather; perfect for spending our days outside and with those we love most.
Our time off was the perfect mix of busy, fun-filled days spent with loved ones and relaxed days at home. Thankfully, we actually experienced some spring weather here in Maryland during our spring break and the kids were able to spend every single minute playing outside. It was just what we needed to be reminded of what’s to come soon when warm, gorgeous weather is here to stay.
On this particular day last week, after seeing that the once rainy weather report changed to a forecast full of gorgeous weather, I loaded the kids in the van and we made the 2+ hour drive to my in-laws’ home in La Plata, Maryland.
After a yummy lunch, we thought about taking the kids to a nearby playground to burn off some energy, but reconsidered since my girl currently has stitches in her forehead. It was advised that she stay away from the playground and similar activities for a few weeks.
My mother-in-law came up with a great plan B, and took us to the nearby La Plata Train Station Museum. She was just having a conversation about trains with my son during lunch and thought he would appreciate the museum. She hit the nail on the head. In fact, both kids loved the museum.
The inside portion of the museum was closed, but that didn’t matter. The kids ran and ran and ran. They climbed and jumped (very much like a playground, ironically). Their grandfather sang old train songs to them. Their grandmother picked them up to peek into the caboose. It went from being a train station to a police station where they locked away their grandparent-criminals to a place where batgirl and batman fought off pirates.
And just like that, that last minute stop at the small train station museum with their grandparents is logged away in my children’s memory bank. Another precious set of memories experienced and filed away. You can just imagine how happy I was to have my big camera along for the ride.
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