As a ritual created 22 years ago, I take my kids on field trips. Some mandatory and some optional.
I found this field trip location on Atlas Obscura. Complete with a mausoleum. Kids like a hint of intrigue or danger in their field trips or a never ending conveyor belt of doughnuts.
Mothering has allowed me to become a stained glass window birthing the sunlight into tiny rainbow prisms and glorious pools of light. Each child added their own color and shadow and power. Until the beauty was blinding.
Todays field trip participants are Ty, Addy, Tuck, Lizzy, BeBe, George, and Mim. And me.
Rituals are a life saver in any family. I first read about this family survival tool in Meg Cox’s book The Heart of a Family. Root beer floats on Friday night. I grew up with breakfast for dinner on Sunday night. Raised Catholic, I was lucky to have a ton of rituals embedded in my childhood but my kids have been raised with very little religion and a mixture of Unitarian, atheism, trial and error and nature.