A Weekend in Sioux Falls: 10 Big Lessons from 2 Little Ones

Brookings, SD Children’s Museum

Last month I asked my 9-year-old niece, Violette, what her goals were for the summer. She’d been humming to herself, fiddling with something on the kitchen table, but snapped to attention as soon as she heard my question.

“Huh?” she said. “Like… what do you mean?” Her round blue eyes shifted from daydreams to focus.

“Like, what are some things you’d really like to do this summer?”

She paused, thinking. “Well, I’d really like to go to a water park and a zoo.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s see if we can make that happen.”

So I talked to her mom—my sister, Ariel—and we decided to take both of her girls, Violette and Rosie, for a weekend in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Neither of us had been, and it seemed like a great place for a kid-friendly adventure. Most importantly, there was a zoo.

1. Every Bond is Built Through Presence

I nannied Violette for a year when she was about two, right after I moved back from Australia in 2017. I was in a season of transition, figuring out what came next, and the timing just worked out. I’ve always felt we formed a special bond during that time—both of us creative spirits with a love for music (though she’s much cooler than me, no question).

When her little sister Rosie came along three years ago, a different bond formed—equally special. I don’t see her every day like I did with Violette, but often enough to have earned a place in her limited vocabulary as “Auntie Foofie.”

Whether daily or occasional, being part of their world is what turns moments into connections that matter.

2. Road Trip with Kids—A Whole Different Kind of Adventure

We hit the road early, armed with Starbucks coffees and cake pops—a road trip essential. Ariel and I caught up on work, life, and family, our conversation interrupted every few minutes by voices from the backseat: “Where are we going?” “Are we there yet?” “I dropped my toy!” “I’m hungry!”

To break up the 3.5-hour drive from Fargo, we stopped in Brookings, SD, to visit the Children’s Museum of South Dakota. It was surprisingly impressive… and predictably chaotic.

Inside, the girls ran through KidStreet, a miniature town complete with a café, post office, and even a TV studio where kids can play meteorologist or newscaster. We peeked into the Sensations Studio, where art, airflow, and light create an immersive space for sensory play, and passed through miniExplorers, a nature-inspired area just for toddlers.

But the biggest draw—and the biggest scare—was outside: the museum’s Dino Dig, where kids can uncover fossils beside Mama, a life-size animatronic T. rex, and her juvenile counterpart, Max. Rosie was absolutely terrified of Mama and wouldn’t stop talking about “dinos” for the rest of the trip.

Between cake pops, constant questions, and a surprise run-in with a T. rex, road trips with kids are equal parts chaos and joy—and never just about the destination.

Riding the trolley at Great Plains zoo

4. Big Smiles Live in Small Moments

Our first stop in Sioux Falls was the Great Plains Zoo, home to over 1,000 animals representing more than 100 species from around the world. The weather seemed to change every five minutes—full, scorching sun one moment, then gusty wind and sprinkles the next. We wandered through habitats designed to mimic natural environments, from the African Plains to the lush South American Rainforest.

For all the exotic animals we saw—the majestic lions, curious meerkats, and quirky penguins—Rosie was most impressed by the free-range bunnies and birds that weren’t even part of the official exhibits. Both girls lit up riding the colorful carousel and hopping on the zoo’s trolley, taking it all in while snacking on cotton candy. I was most impressed with my $11.50 cup of fresh-squeezed lemonade the size of my head.

It was the tiny, unexpected moments—a bunny sighting, a carousel ride—that brought the biggest smiles.

5. A Different Kind of Energy is Needed (Naps are Required & Bedtime is Early)

After the zoo, we grabbed dinner at a nearby restaurant, then headed to the hotel. The kids were eager to swim, and I won’t lie—the idea of soaking in a hot tub after a long day on my feet sounded incredible. By 6 p.m., we’d retired to our room. It felt early, but I was beat. I’d forgotten how much energy it takes to be around little ones. Constant questions. Snacks. Blankies. Stuffies. “Auntie!” “Mama!”

I collapsed onto the bed in my pool towel, too exhausted to even shower.

“How do you do it?” I asked my sister, barely able to lift my head.

She laughed. “Why do you think I go to bed at 8:30pm every night?”

She was only half joking.

“But seriously,” I said. “How do mothers do this—day in and day out?”

She didn’t really have an answer. Maybe there isn’t one.

Our lives are so different, I thought. She’s married, with two kids and a dog. I’m single, no kids—so trips like this feel like entering a different universe. The pace is slower. The activities are different. Restaurants change. Emotions run higher. More snacks. More meltdowns. More moments of magic, too.

Eventually, I peeled myself off the bed, took a quick shower, and climbed into pajamas. I was asleep by 7 p.m., the glow of the TV flickering across the room, SpongeBob playing quietly in the background.

 Life with little ones moves at a slower, sweeter, and completely exhausting pace.

Candy Cloud Factory

6. The Soft Side of Early Mornings (Before Chaos Ensues)

The next morning, I peeked at my phone on the nightstand to check the time. It felt like I’d been asleep forever.

6:00 a.m.

Ughhhh, I thought. Why am I awake?

In the bed next to mine were Ariel and Rosie. Catching wind of my movement, Rosie sat up, wide-eyed and excited, while Ariel still slept.

“Auntie Foofie,” she whispered. “You awake?”

“Yes,” I whispered back.

“I sleep with you?”

I nodded and motioned for her to come over. I helped her climb into bed and tucked her pink blankie around her just so. I pulled up Cocomelon (or as she calls it, Cocominnie) on my phone and handed it to her to watch quietly while Violette and Ariel continued sleeping. Her little face filled with glee in the soft light of the screen. We snuggled for awhile, Rosie occasionally asking me about “Dinos” still on her mind from yesterday.

Sometimes the quietest moments become the sweetest start to the day… before the inevitable sour meltdowns kick in. ;)

Falls Park

7. Messy Moments Make the Best Memories

After breakfast at the hotel, we headed to Falls Park—where the city’s namesake waterfalls cascade over stunning pink quartzite rocks. We wandered the scenic paths, snapped photos near the rushing water, and let the girls play at the nearby playground. At one point, Rosie got tired of walking and asked me to carry her on my back. Even though it was 80 degrees and I was already sweating, I obliged. Her little arms wrapped around my shoulders, and she was absolutely delighted. Hard to say no to that little face.

Across the street, the Candy Cloud Factory felt like stepping into a pastel daydream. The girls watched wide-eyed as the staff spun soft, colorful clouds of cotton candy just for them. Near the counter, a case of boozy cupcakes caught my attention. Obviously, I had to try them. I grabbed a bourbon-infused chocolate for myself and a maple bacon for Ariel—because after wrangling kids around waterfalls all morning, the adults deserved a treat too. Rosie grabbed my hand so we could walk out and cross the street safely—her little fingers sticky from the cotton candy.

Sometimes the mess is what makes the moment.

Butterfly House

8. Learning to Slow Down

After our morning at Falls Park, we regrouped at the hotel for naps and some downtime. Our plan for the afternoon was to visit the Butterfly House & Aquarium, then end the day at Washington Pavilion.

We started in the aquarium, where colorful coral reefs, gliding stingrays, and delicate jellyfish created a serene underwater world. The kids pressed their faces to the glass, mesmerized.

From there, we stepped into the warm, humid butterfly exhibit, home to hundreds of free-flying tropical butterflies. The moment we walked in, we were swarmed—which absolutely terrified Rosie. She screamed and cried, and despite Ariel’s best efforts to comfort her, they ended up having to leave.

Violette and I stayed behind, meandering slowly through the space. She wore a long-sleeved tie-dye shirt specifically to attract the butterflies, and it must have worked—they landed on her several times. We moved through the winding paths, past vibrant blooms and the soft sound of water trickling through the habitat.

I realized how much more I slow down when I’m with children. If I had been alone, I probably would’ve walked through the whole exhibit in ten minutes. But Violette wanted to pause for every butterfly, moving gently so they’d feel safe enough to land on her. It made me take my time too — really noticing their delicate wings, the wide range of colors and patterns fluttering all around us. We walked through twice.

9. Pause to Reflect—I’m Not Where I Once Was

After our slow walk through the Butterfly House, I kept thinking about how different this summer feels compared to last.

A year ago, everything felt heavy. Freshly grieving the loss of my brother, Anfernee, who had passed that spring—summer 2024 felt like a terrible hangover that wouldn’t end, no matter how much I slept.

I remember one particularly low day during that time.

I lay in bed with the covers pulled over my head, trying to block out the afternoon sun that felt like torture, and muffle the annoyingly cheerful birdsong outside my window. My eyes shut tight, mind spinning from the weight of this recent loss.

I was so tired—worn down by the effort it took just to keep going, day after day.

Sinking further into sadness, anger, and confusion, it felt as if I had reached the deepest, darkest, coldest part of the ocean—where no warmth or light ever touches.

10. The Power of Love & Little Ones

It was in that space that suddenly, I saw them—Violette and Rosie. Like a vision. Bright, glowing. Blonde curls, rosy cheeks, sparkling blue eyes. Innocent. Joyful.

I knew that they needed their auntie. They needed me to be present. And to be okay.

That vision didn’t fix everything, but it pulled me back towards the surface and helped reshape my perspective. It gave me a reason to keep showing up, even when I felt like I couldn’t.

No matter what.

I had been so absorbed in my own pain, that I neglected to think about anything or anyone beyond that. What I realized in that moment though, is that I am not just here for me, but for others—and especially loved ones.

Which is maybe why carrying Rosie’s sweaty little body through Falls Park didn’t feel like a burden. Or why I didn’t mind her sticky cotton-candy hand wrapped around mine as we crossed the street. Or why I could sit through Violette’s hotel pool “performance” for the fifth time. And pause to do her hair to match Auntie’s—just the way she asked—even when we’re rushing out the door.

These small, messy, exhausting moments aren’t just memories—they’re reasons to be present.

I can’t believe I almost forgot that was the whole point.