I’m returning to Florida, this time with my kid in tow. He and my cousin have wanted to spend some time together, and I have another short break in my work just in time for his spring vacation. My cousin is one of those people you love to leave your kid with because you know he’ll get spoiled, but not in a way that requires deprogramming afterward.
Interestingly, the medium I saw last time I was there asked me why I hadn’t brought my son along with me. The quick answer was that he was in school, but the delayed answer was that he’s not really an outdoor kid. He doesn’t like zoos unless they house only reptiles, and would prefer to stay indoors on the nicest day rather than playing outside. That’s fine; it’s his job to be himself, not me. His idea of a good time in Florida will be to hang with my cousin and her husband and their cats, and visit the beach.
But I did ask whether he’d like to come along with me on some of the things I didn’t get finished during my last trip. To my surprise, he does. Yes to the indoor butterfly habitat in Gainesville, he said, maybe to the giant sink hole called Devil’s Millhopper, no to swimming with manatees. “You don’t want to swim with manatees?” I asked. “Not really. I’m just not that interested in cows, mom.”