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A few weeks ago, we took our family to Storyland in New Hampshire. We met dear friends and were excited about the prospect of our kids exploring the park and spending time getting to know one another better.

Emelia was thrilled immediately. She practically pulled off my arm dragging me here and there trying to experience every ride possible. Helaina, generally my braver child, was more tentative. She walked slowly between her sister and me, holding our hands. When we took her on her first ride, she sat still as could be, gripping us in fear.

And then we went to Cinderella's castle ....

It was a long climb on a hot day to the top of a hill where the castle lay. Standing at the front door was Cinderella. The young woman in front of us had very blond hair up in a bun, she wore a simple, slightly worn blue and yellow gown. Jewels dangled from her ears and blue eyeliner rimmed her eyes. She smiled to display crooked teeth. This was no Disney princess.

Emelia was was mildly impressed. "She doesn't look like the Cinderella in my books," she said. She walked around the castle. She thought about sitting on the throne, got a closer look and decided there were better things to see and do.

Helaina was memorized. She pointed to the woman.

"That Cinderella?" she said.

"Yes," I said, "That's Cinderella."

"I see Cinderella," she said smiling. She stood there, just watching her for what seemed like a long time.

Emelia was ready to go first, but Hallie didn't want to leave. She cried as we pulled her away.

"No, she wailed, "I stay, I see Cinderella."

As the day progressed, she begged to go back. When we didn't respond to her pleas, she took matters into her own hands and headed out on her own, in search of her beloved princess. Her dad acquiesced first, he took her back while I took Emelia on more rides. No sooner did he arrive back, that she began begging to return to the castle again. My turn, so we climbed back up the hill in 90-degree weather to the princess with the crooked smile.

She ran ahead of me. "I go see Cinderella, Mama!" she cheered.

But when we got to the castle, Cinderella wasn't there. Hallie was stumped. She walked around pacing, looking everywhere. I learned that the young woman was on her lunch break, but would return shortly.

"Cinderella is eating lunch," I told Hallie.

"Lunch?" she asked confused. She seemed baffled that even princesses need to eat. The next 10 minutes or so were probably the longest minutes of Hallie's life. She paced around the castle anxiously. She walked to the front door, poked her head back in and shook it. "Cinderella not here." She paced and poked and poked and paced looking for her beloved princess. "She done lunch?" she kept asking as she teetered in and out of the doorway.

All of the sudden Hallie cried out, "SHE HERE!" She took off, running as fast as she could, her little legs and arms pumping back and forth charging down the long, asphalt road to meet Cinderella walking back to the castle. "Wait! Stop!" I called after her. "You'll fall, wait for Mama." But it was no use.

She ran right into Cinderella's skirt, threw her arms around the poor woman's knees and cried. "Cinderella, you here! I wait for you long, long time."

Cinderella was gracious. She held her hand out to Helaina who took it in hers. Hand in hand they walked back up that hill. When they got to the castle, Hallie did not let go. Cinderella led her and all the other waiting girls around her castle. She showed them her glass slipper and her fairy godmother's magic wand, and she showed them her thrown.

"Good bye ladies," said Cinderella sitting in her throne. "It was nice to see you, would you like a hug goodbye?

Hallie nodded and jumped right in. She threw her arms around Cinderella just as 10 bigger girls threw their arms around her too. Hallie was gone, swallowed by a sea of pink and lavender shorts and dresses. I gasped, trying to make sure she was okay. The woman seemed concerned, too, and drew back. All the girls let go, and there was Hallie still clinging to the skirt. She let go and looked at me smiling, "I hug Cinderella."

"Are you okay?" I asked her. She nodded. "I OK."

As we left the castle, she looked at me and said, "Cinderella is my fend."

She cried as we left the park. We sent Cinderella letters when we got home letting her know how much we missed her. We still talk about meeting her almost a month later.

What really struck me that day was how real it all was to my two and a half year old. In her mind this woman was Cinderella, and we visited the very castle where the princess lost her slipper. It was a magical experience for Helaina. We get so jaded and cynical in our adult lives, and it is easy to forget how special these simple, yet fantastical life experiences can be: treasure hunts in the woods, forts made from pillows, magic carpets made from blankets, and all that a little mind can imagine.

Maybe in some ways, that's part of what having children does for us as adults. It takes the edge of our cynicism. It softens us and gives us an opportunity to get back in touch with our own childhood dreams. While know in our head there are no such thing as fairy dust, wizards or warlocks, in out hearts we reconnect with those little nuggets of magic. Magic we can only see when we wear our kid-colored glasses.