You have heard of Bigfoot sightings. You know the search continues for the Loch Ness monster. Thousands flock to Tasmania every year seeking out the thought-to-be-extinct Tasmanian tiger. A lucky few have witnessed unicorn sightings, alien sightings, fairy sightings — but this weekend, I witnessed the rarest creature of all in the unlikeliest of environments:

Me, with my kids, at a music festival.

Parents of young ones can often become more reclusive than the Abominable Snowman. It's not that we don't want to venture out into the great wide world; it's just that we know it comes with ... variables. Does the diaper bag have enough extra diapers, extra snacks, extra clothes? Is one Costco-sized bottle of aspirin enough for Mommy? Have we prepared for a heat wave, a blizzard, a tsunami and a drought? How many pairs of shoes do they need? What if they step in gum? What if they catch fire? What if we wind up being invited by Elton John to a fancy dinner party at which he sits at the piano and asks our kids to dance along in an impromptu tap dance recital? Can you add taps to sneakers?

Yet despite the risk of temper tantrums and sunburn and frostbite, sometimes an event sounds too good to miss. An all-weekend event, this music festival boasted three outdoor stages playing from noon to night, when the multiple music venues downtown would open their doors and bars for the headlining bands. Typically, festivals cater to 20-somethings who don't have to nurture anything more precious than their flower crowns, yet this one considered the baby-making music-lovers. There were bounce houses and arts and crafts tables and ice cream trucks, and most importantly, there was a slice of heaven in the form of a giant sandbox. Fifty feet from the main stage, parents were able to sit at tables, sip on summer ale and eat pizza while their littles played safely by their feet in the sand. And all I could think was, this is the charmed life. This is how it should be. Imagine if parents weren't at war with the rest of the world and instead were catered to.

Don't want to drag your kids into the bank? Neither do I! But what if you could sit in a rolling lounge chair while waiting in line rather than stand? What if the half-century-old gumdrops in the quarter candy machine were replaced with magical toys that dissolve in water so you never have to see them again? And when it's your turn for a transaction, a bank teller could wheel you to the window and offer you a mai tai as a thank-you for your customer loyalty. Now is that so hard?

Feel as if you can't participate in bar trivia night and your brain is losing power from the lack of stimulation? Not anymore! (I mean no more missing trivia night. I can't help the losing brainpower part. That just comes from having kids and sleep deprivation.) Now every trivia night will come with a corner for a ball pit and lifeguard baby sitters. Bonus: If there's a question about "Sesame Street," you can run over and ask your kids!

Hate taking your children shoe shopping? That'll change now that all shoe shops have bounce houses. While the kids' shoes are off, you can compare sizes and make sure the shop has the styles your kids want and the right sizes. By the time they've bounced themselves out, they will be so fatigued that trying on shoes will be a breeze. Also, the shoestrings will be made of licorice, because why not?

Unrealistic, you say? I disagree. What's unrealistic is the expectation that parents participate in the community with the same vigor when accommodations aren't made for the newest members of the society. Half the bathrooms I go in still don't have changing tables. Too often, I become a self-made hermit, but tackling that music festival alone with my kids made me feel alive again — part of a community again.

Even though a sudden downpour cut our festival-going early when I realized I hadn't packed an umbrella with my snorkeling mask in the diaper bag.

Yesterday a neighbor asked whether I knew I was famous. In the online festival section of the local newspaper was a candid picture of me and the kids. We are hot and sticky and sweaty. But we are all smiling.

Katiedid Langrock is author of the book "Stop Farting in the Pyramids," available at http://www.creators.com/books/stop-farting-in-the-pyramids. Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. To find out more about her and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.