When my oldest son was a toddler, we discovered the Daffodil Glade at the arboretum in our area. Thousands of bulbs burst into yellow and white every year in early spring.
For many years, I would take the kids to the Children's Garden, forgetting about the daffodils until they were wilted with their brown heads drooping to the ground, ready to take a break for the summer. But the past few springs, I've made a point to get myself to the colorful glade while the daffodils were still in full bloom.
This adventure gets mixed reviews from my children. I always promise them we are going to the arboretum "for a hike." But when I ask them to all wear blue or brown or some other coordinating color, they know they are in trouble.
Thankfully, they are compliant little photo subjects. And I think they secretly love the idea of running through a field of flowers as much as I do.
I reminded them on our way home today that as long as they are living in my house, they can assume that one day out of every spring, I will be taking their photos among the daffodils.
Someday, they'll thank me.
We'll look back at all of those pictures in the middle of the flowers and they will say, "Awwww... Remember when mom used to take us to see the daffodils?"
They will have long forgotten the long car ride and how I made them pose among the flowers. They won't remember the fights in the car, their boredom or their desire to get back home and play basketball.
It will seem like one big fairy tale. A warm spring day, surrounded by flowers. And they will fondly remember their childhood trips to the daffodils.
That's what I tell myself anyway.