I took a trip with my parents and left my son at home. Time with them reminded me I'm someone's child, too.

Family trips, at least for me at this stage in my life, are very kid-centered.

We are big multigenerational travelers, but on a recent trip, I left one generation at home.

My 9-year-old wasn’t happy about this — he loves spending time with his grandparents.

The weekend getaway with my parents was the first time in over a decade that I’d traveled anywhere overnight with both of them and without my little one.

We didn’t go far — just an hour north of San Francisco to Healdsburg — but the experience felt new.

We dined at a restaurant with no kids’ menu, lingered over Zinfandels and Rhone-style blends, and watched a detective drama in our pajamas.

My parents asked what I wanted to do and where I wanted to eat, just like I do with my son.

The weekend was a feel-good reminder that I’m still someone’s kid, too.

Our trip centered on a wine tasting.

I’ve been to wine country enough times to know that it isn’t my 9-year-old’s favorite place.

I don’t blame him — it’s boring watching adults sip wine and chat about tasting notes.

So, I left him with his dad to do things he’d much rather enjoy, like going to the Exploratorium and dining on burgers and fries.

Still, it felt strange packing a bag for a vacation without him.

We kicked off the weekend at Limerick Lane Cellars.

I enjoyed the varietals, but more importantly, the vineyard-side seating was the perfect place to hear stories about my parents I’d never heard before.

From dating to immigrating to tales about their recent travels, I learned a lot.

On any typical afternoon with my family, attention is on my son and nephew.

My mom sketches with the kids, and my dad takes them on walks when they’re feeling bored or a little antsy.

Seriously, they’re the best (which is why my son was mad I went on this trip without him).

But this time, the three of us settled in, stayed in one place, and had a chance to really chat, without distractions.

After wine tasting, my parents and I went out to dinner in downtown Healdsburg.

My parents let me pick the restaurant.

The food was full of flavors my son probably wouldn’t have enjoyed, and we took our time ordering round after round of tasty tapas.

At night, we stayed in a restored farmhouse on the vineyard where we’d spent the afternoon wine tasting.

My parents cozied up on one couch, and I lay down on the other to wind down with a new TV show before bed.

I don’t even remember the plot, but I do know we didn’t find it on the Disney Channel.

I fell asleep halfway through, knowing my mom and dad would wake me up so I wouldn’t get a sore neck, just like I do for my son.

I didn’t have to double-check that the doors and windows were locked or make sure all the food was put away.

It felt so good to truly be the “kid” again, just for one night.

The next morning, my dad and I grabbed coffee and went outside.

We passed a family of quail chatting beneath an orange tree and stepped into the vineyard.

The dirt was surprisingly soft — almost sandy — and the vines, some planted as early as 1910, were dotted with self-pollinating buds.

We sipped and strolled between the rows until my coffee was gone.

I couldn’t wait to get back to my son, but I had so much fun — and I felt so grateful for the time away with my parents.