Many years ago I went to Wildcat Mountain State Park with my future son's dad. It was the first time I farted in front of him. We were on our way from northern Wisconsin to Gurnee, Illinois and Great America theme park, circa 1977. Years later, circa July 6th, 1984, we again spent the night there with our then 1 year old son, setting up the tent in the glow of the headlights from our 1977 Honda Civic. At that time we were on our way to The House on The Rock, where we weren't allowed to use our stroller, so had to carry that just barely walking 1 year old baby boy. Good times, and fond memories both times.