Before moving to Colorado, we spent ten wonderful years in Holland, where my husband is from. Each summer, we would visit the same holiday house in the sunny south of France.

Our daughters, when tiny tots, formed sweet, tight friendships with children from other families who also returned to the same vacation spot year after year.

Even as they grew into their teen years, the tradition remained the same. Every year, our reunion began with a similar scene: the kids would stare, glance away, and act awkward. I felt embarrassed for them, and the other parents were also perplexed.

But then, one of the kids would get really brave. Picture a spunky tot, unable to contain his excitement, twitching with anticipation. Suddenly, he’d run over to one of my girls- heavily arm-banded with floaties and sparkly swim goggles- and push her, shrieking, into the pool.

Shock quickly turned to giggles then lots of laughter, and the kids became inseparable for the rest of the vacation.

This happened year after year, even as they grew older.