Over memorial weekend my husband and I went to Seaquest State Park in Castle Rock. I have to be honest, when I reserved it, I didn’t consider whether there was any sightseeing in the area. It was just a new place for us to camp. Seaquest just happened to be the gateway to Mount St. Helens. My husband and I remember when the mountain blew up, but neither of us had ever seen the results. So we made the hour drive to the observatory; it was quite magnificent and surreal.

That evening, back at our campsite, we heard children laughing and playing in the distance. We spied them running across what looked like a red roof. We walked to the playground and realized the “red roof” was actually a huge pile of red clay. Children were climbing it and riding their bikes down the sides.

Back around our campfire, I watched the kids glide down the hill and said to my husband, “Those kids may have gone to the interpretive center across the street, to the three visitor sites between here and the main observatory, stopped at every viewpoint as they got closer to Mount St. Helens, and finally seen the magnificence of the mountain on the first clear day in 10 days, but the only thing they are going to remember about their camping trip is the big mound of clay they played on.”

My daughters are 18 and 21 now, and I remember many times in their childhood where the memory they took from an experience was not the one I intended for them to have. We parents knock ourselves out to make magical moments for our children and they remember the mound of clay.

Once my husband and I drug our oldest down to Seattle Center when she was two years old to see the cartoon character Arthur in real life. It was only because of her pushy mother she got a sweet passing moment where Arthur patted her hand. However, the only thing she remembers to this day is afterward when she walked around the fountain holding her father’s hand, eating a bag of gummy alphabet letters.

Then there was a time when my youngest, who was five, got a rare trip to her Aunt’s house in Portland. We were at the zoo, and I was taking her to the restroom when she was distracted by a giraffe that also had to relieve itself. That giraffe peed and peed and peed. I pushed her to the restroom, and when we came back that giraffe was still peeing. Guess what she remembers most about that trip? Yes, the giraffe. That and a small box of crayons she got from a fast food restaurant that melted in the car.

So sitting at my campfire last weekend, I giggled to myself watching those children’s glee as they coasted down the clay hill. I knew how disappointed their parents were going to be when they got home and asked their kids what their favorite part of the vacation was.

No matter how many opportunities we give our kids to take in memories we want them to have, they will always observe something unexpected and unintentional. And when we look back, we’ll realize it only matters that they remembered joy, in spite of us.

Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing and her daily blog on her website livingwithgleigh.com or on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh,” or twitter @livewithgleigh. Her column is available every week atmaplevalleyreporter.com under the Lifestyles section.