On our last visit to my in-laws in Pittsburgh, my mother-in-law suggested that we take our boys to Idlewild, an amusement park 50 miles away in Ligonier, Pennsylvania. I settled into the car with great trepidation (as thoughts of cheesy signage, loud music, and neon plastic danced around in my head), and I grew even more worried as the drive stretched to two hours and the skies grew black. Just as we pulled in, though, the sun broke through, and I was delighted to see that we were nestled in the cool woods. I felt like I was entering a national park, not an amusement park.

In short, Idlewild was wonderful, and perfect for my son Alex, who is almost 4. He and his cousin, who's 7, took off through a three-story-high wooden obstacle course, and then we caught a train to the area with the rides for the younger kiddies. Because of the sporadic rain, the lines were short, and the two tikes ran from one adorable, old-school ride to another: a mini Ferris wheel, boats that went around in a little pond, race cars that wove through a thicket of tall trees, a trolley through Mister Roger’s Neighborhood, airplanes, motorcycles, you name it (even my younger son Ben, who is 21 months, got on a few).
 
The area was so contained, and the rides so safe (just slow enough for us relax; just fast enough for them to get a thrill) that we could keep a little distance as they made their circuit, and both adults and little ones reveled in the freedom. The day flew by. At the end, we counted and realized that Alex had gone on 21 rides, including the enormous adult Ferris wheel, which he loved (my husband looked green when he got off). The only one Alex didn’t get to do was the older-kid bumper cars. He was a few inches shy of the cutoff height, and as we drove away at seven p.m. (right before he conked out until the next morning!), he kept insisting that next time, he would be big enough.