Every day when we head to the market through the streets of Chapala—the quiet Mexican town where we're spending the summer—my six-year-old son, Owen, drags his feet. Maybe it's the humidity. Maybe he's not eating enough or not sleeping well. I can't put my finger on it, and I'm tired of trying to be nice when I feel like yelling. I offer ice cream and screen time instead of siesta. Nothing seems to motivate him.

One day we take the bus to the next town over to hike to a waterfall. Water funnels down the town's steep cobblestone street, thanks to a big storm the previous night. We climb for half a mile or so, trying to avoid spray from cars, before we get to the trailhead. My husband is in front, then our nine-year-old, then Owen, then me. My boys are dancing along, practically racing up the hill. They haven't moved at a pace like this all week.

We veer off onto a wide dirt trail, entering the jungle along with several families out for the same weekend adventure. I'm already dripping sweat, mostly from the heat rather than exertion, but the mile-high elevation is also affecting me. We ford a river. There's only one way across, requiring that we balance atop slick stones, a muddy outcropping, and a boulder. Teenage girls tease us in Spanish as my family figures it out. We continue on—my feet are wet, but the kids' are dry—squashing mosquitoes and studying the almost-fluorescent green leaves around us. We live in the Arizona desert—we're startled by this vivid environment.

The path leads to an opening in the dense foliage and a small waterfall. I think we've made it. But this is not our destination, just overflow from the storm. I insist on pictures anyway. I worked hard to get here. I'm impressed with my middle-aged body and not embarrassed by my soaked shirt and dripping hair. We rest and drink for a few minutes. A group of teenage boys, topless of course, pass us carrying only Pepsi bottles. A large family comes next; even the grandmother is steadily making her way. Then we continue, up and up and up.

After an hour more of back-and-forth across the river, we finally reach the waterfall. It's pretty enough, but we don't stay long. As so often is the case, the magic has been in the journey. As we head back, sticky and bitten, I praise my little boy for tromping along.

"You are such a good explorer, Owen. You aren't even tired!" He hasn't lagged, except to ponder details of brightly colored beetles. I ask him why he's doing so well.

"When I have to walk in the city, I can feel my legs hurting. But exploring in the jungle, I am so interested, I don't even notice," he says with authority. This is the kid I know, the one who can hike five miles despite being less than four feet tall. 

I've screwed up as a parent, from not setting appropriate toothbrushing routines to expecting the kids to learn how to ride a bike on my timetable. One way I've succeeded, though, is in fostering their relationship with the natural world. More than me or virtually anyone else I know, they understand how nature fuels them. They get something from every rock and leaf they touch. They can spend a day wandering, showing me tiny specks of something cool, and never grow bored.

Owen is onto something. When I'm exploring, I don't feel the sore muscles and arthritis, the weight of the mortgage, or college-tuition anxiety. I'm fully participating in what I'm doing. Climbing over boulders may make my butt look weird, but it doesn't matter.

We finish our summer in Guadalajara, surrounded by over a million people and stunning architecture. The contrast in atmosphere to Chapala is obvious, even to Owen. There's too much to see and experience: cathedrals, bronze statues that seem to be melting, vendors of all sorts. Our necks get sore from swiveling. One day, we take a break in a series of fountains between Historically Important Buildings. The boys splash, ignoring the bas-relief mural right behind them.

"Now we can go to more museums," Owen tells me after 10 minutes in the water. After just an echo of nature, he's ready for the city.

This article appeared in the September/October 2016 edition with the headline "Passing It Down."