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Taking a preschooler to Mardi Gras sounded reckless for different reasons: heaving crowds, heavy drinking, Bourbon Street bedlam. But having done it, I’d argue that most of Mardi Gras is family-friendly; the late-night debauchery is past our bedtime anyway. We watched the parades from elevated stands at the Sheraton New Orleans, a setup that offered us a prime perch and Club Lounge access with bathrooms and snacks. The greatest danger, it turned out, was not the beer-fueled mayhem so many pearl-clutchers warned us about; it was getting pelted in the face with beads.
To Julian, every float was a toy store on wheels, with krewe members hurling footballs, stuffed animals, and light-up swords. He quickly mastered the reach-and-duck: one arm begging for loot, the other shielding his head.
Outside Toulouse Theatre in the French Quarter, rainbow confetti swirled through the air as the street dissolved into one giant Fat Tuesday dance party. Julian was the only kid there. He threw himself into the costumed revelry, cutting a rug with strangers who draped beads around his neck.
Nobody cared that we had brought a four-year-old. They loved that he was having as much fun as they were. So much parental anxiety is anticipatory: a knee-jerk “no” that imagines all the worst-case-scenario reasons a place won’t work for a child before giving the place—or the child—a chance to prove us wrong.
Alaska in winter put that theory through the wringer. For Julian’s first spring break, I chose what is arguably the least spring break-y destination imaginable, timed to the 54th annual Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race’s ceremonial start in downtown Anchorage. We stayed at The Wildbirch Hotel overlooking the route, with a front-row spot outside and an escape hatch upstairs when the inevitable cold-hungry-bored trifecta hit.
We were also there for Fur Rondy, Anchorage’s beloved winter festival. Julian rode snow-covered midway rides and watched Alaskans in inflatable dinosaur suits race alongside actual reindeer in the annual Running of the Reindeer.
It was all going so well, I got smug. Check us out! My hardy Minnesota kid is taking Alaska in winter like a champ.
Then we flew to Fairbanks.
Temperatures plunged to -38°F. Julian got a nasty cough and spent a full day zombied out with his iPad. When he finally felt better, we ventured out to the World Ice Art Championships, but spent almost as much time thawing out in the warming tent as we did whooshing down ice slides. By the time we checked into Sheep Mountain Lodge, a historic collection of cabins in the Mat-Su Valley, we were sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Then Alaska reminded me why I’d dragged us there in the first place.
