We met on a 7th-grade field trip. Twenty years later, I secretly recreated it and we rekindled our romance.

According to my childhood diary, I met my husband on our seventh-grade field trip to Canobie Lake Park — a local theme park, an hour north of Boston.

From the Ferris wheel overlooking the freshwater lake to the 90-year-old wooden coaster called the Yankee Cannonball, it would be hard to find a more idyllic spot for a middle school meet-cute in New England.

We didn’t start dating until our late 20s, but despite the sweeping romance we had reconnecting and getting married, we fell into a postpartum blur after having a baby.

As we adjusted to our new lives, romance kept falling down the priority list until it practically flatlined.

But with the 18-month mark around the corner, I was ready for a comeback, and my husband absolutely did not see it coming.

Luckily, my parents offered to watch our daughter on many weekend afternoons, to give us time off.

Yet left alone, we defaulted too easily to catching up on work and home improvement projects.

We needed friends to shake us out of Mom-and-Dad mode.

I’d been hoping to orchestrate a surprise trip to Canobie Lake Park all summer, ever since I realized we’d passed the 20th anniversary of our meeting there.

So, when two of our bandmates mentioned they were free to hang out one Saturday, I immediately called them in secret, and we hatched a plan.

It all kicked off when our friends offered to take my husband and me to a fun spot with live music for the day — a winery conveniently located near Canobie Lake.

With the decoy destination in the GPS, the four of us piled into one car and set off, bathing suits hidden in the trunk.

At the last second, we veered off course, pulling into the park as if it were a complete coincidence.

I wish I had a video of his face when we arrived.

The only other time I’ve seen him so surprised and delighted was when I showed him the positive pregnancy test.

We showed up at 4 p.m., sunlight glittering off the lake bordering the park.

There were families with strollers all around, but it wasn’t too crowded.

I didn’t hear a single tantrum being thrown for the entire five hours we were there.

We did exactly what 13-year-olds do after being let loose in an amusement park without supervision.

We rode roller coasters all night long.

Played summer camp games while we waited in line.

Made silly faces in the photo booth.

Got soaked from head to toe on a log flume called the Boston Tea Party.

Shared a basket of chicken fingers as a snack, and then forgot to have dinner.

Rode the gondola and watched the sun set over the lake.

Made fun of the totally-not-scary haunted house.

Started a screaming competition with a bunch of pre-teen girls on the opposite side of the swinging Pirate Ship.

The highlight was when we stumbled upon The Hit Collective, a boy band trio from Las Vegas, kicking off a summer residency at the park.

They serenaded the crowd with songs from One Direction and K-Pop Demon Hunters, and even pulled kids up onstage to take Polaroid selfies with them while they performed.

In keeping with the childhood nostalgia, we used my disposable camera to take a group photo with them after, like they were the Jonas Brothers themselves.

Many things about the park felt the same, but I had so much more fun as a thirty-four-year-old than I did at thirteen.

I wasn’t scared of roller coasters anymore, for one.

After giving birth, going upside down for a few seconds isn’t quite so intimidating.

I actually enjoyed being jokingly peer-pressured into the rides I used to be scared of.

And I had no qualms saying no to the rides I know I hate (instead of going on the drop tower just to impress my crush).

We didn’t just feel like kids; we were reminded of how much fun we could have as a couple.

We fell in love again, holding hands, as we decided which ride to take next together.

What began as a romantic gesture to celebrate the start of our friendship turned into a time machine adventure we’ll remember for the rest of our lives.