Welcome to another installment of Winkler, Party of Three—except this time, it was just the Party of Two: me and my 8-year-old sidekick, Coen. This was one of our favorite overnight road trips to Hot Springs, Arkansas—a place we keep coming back to because every visit uncovers something new. Whether it’s a quick weekend or a spring break escape, Hot Springs Arkansas with kids always offers something unexpected. We set off on a father-son quest to dig up literal buried treasure (crystals!), but what we found along the way was equal parts magic, mayhem, and a reminder that even single-parent road trips come with plot twists.

Day One: Coffee, Connection, and a Death-Defying Leap

We hit the road heading for Hot Springs Village, Arkansas, with our destination set for the Ron Coleman Crystal Mine the next morning. But first, a detour.

Mount Pleasant, TX — If you’re ever rolling through East Texas and need caffeine or just a good heart-to-heart with your past, stop at Cantrip Coffee. It’s run by a couple of my former theater students (yes, I said former students, yes, they’re in their 30s now, and yes, I feel ancient). Coen and I pulled up mid-morning and got the kind of warm welcome that makes you feel like your past life didn’t totally implode, it just… evolved.

We talked about business plans, roasting beans, surviving the chaos of launching something new, and what it means to blend creativity and commerce. Coen sat quietly beside me, sipping his juice box like a tiny, patient Zen master. About 30 minutes in, I felt a tug on my arm. A soft hug. His version of “Dad, this is nice but I’m done now.”

Parenting tip: Kids usually give you signs before a full meltdown. I don’t always catch them, but this time, I did. I gave him a big hug and told him how awesome he was for being so patient while I had a grown-up moment.

Brunch, Brick Rash, and Hot Springs Adventures with Kids

“You hungry, buddy?” It wasn’t quite lunchtime, but it was definitely time for food. Across from Cantrip sat Laurie’s Cheesecake & Café—a cheerful little place with a bakery counter that called to us like a carb siren.

As we made our way across the square, Coen discovered the recessed sidewalks and decided they were a stage. “Watch this!” he shouted.

He launched himself across the brick trenches. “Wow! A death-defying leap!” I cheered.

Mistake.

That became the chant. “DEATH. DEFYING. LEAP!” he repeated as he bounded again… and again… until, predictably, the leap was not-so-death-defying. He caught his foot, sprawled out, and scraped his knee on the bricks.

Cue the dramatic groan. The clutching of the knee. The “I can’t walk” moment.

I managed to get him to hobble to the deli and into the bathroom where we cleaned him up. The groaning didn’t stop—it escalated. We made our way, limping and sighing, across the deli floor to a booth like a pair of war heroes in search of lunch.

I went to the counter and returned triumphantly with a sugar cookie. That usually does the trick. But not this time. Coen gave me his best sad eyes and whispered, “Will you ask if they have any Band-Aids?”

I walked back to the counter and asked the girl working behind it. She returned with a Band-Aid large enough to manage external bleeding from a car crash. She looked at it thoughtfully. “You could draw something on it,” she said.

“I don’t have anything…”

“I can do it,” she said with purpose.

She darted off to a side counter, grabbed a Sharpie, and after a moment returned with a cartoon kitty drawn on the bandage. She handed it over like it was priceless art. And in that moment, it kind of was.

The Healing Power of Sugar and a Sharpie

It was the kind of injury only cured by a turkey melt, a slice of cheesecake, and a hand-drawn kitty Band-Aid. Crisis officially averted.

I applied the Band-Aid to Coen’s knee, and like magic—everything was healed. With his new kitty badge of honor, Coen launched into an elaborate tale about his kitten, Jelly Bean, who lives in his room and is responsible for most of the adorable chaos happening there.

Once we wrapped up our meal, Coen walked up to the counter and thanked the girl for the Band-Aid—melting hearts in a five-foot radius—and we headed back on the road.

The Snack Stop and the Storm

Next stop: Hope, Arkansas, Walmart. Snack mission initiated.

Pretzels, Swedish Fish, and Starbucks coffee in hand—we were road ready. As we walked out of the Walmart, the skies opened up. Coen and I sprinted through the downpour, laughing and dodging puddles until we tumbled into the truck, soaked but victorious.

Then came the next challenge: torrential rain.

Coen leaned forward in his car seat, nose practically glued to the window. He fired off questions like a game show host on double espresso. “How can you see?” “What are those lines?” “Why are they dotted?” “What do the blue signs mean? Brown? Yellow? Red? Are there purple signs?” “How fast can your wipers go?” “Why is the back light on that car flashing?”

It was an interrogation on par with a DMV handbook. I tried to keep up, answering faster than he could ask—until it turned into a full-blown game: could I out-answer him before he out-questioned me?

Spoiler: I could not. But it made the last hour and a half of driving fly by.

Hot Springs Village, here we come. Just one more chapter in our spring break tradition of exploring Hot Springs Arkansas with kids.

Pizza, Exploration, and Downtown Trails

After checking into our motel, the next thought—naturally—was food. Hot Springs Village is about 20 minutes north of Hot Springs, so we climbed back into the car and headed to Grateful Head Pizza Oven & Tap Room (yes, the name alone was worth the drive). Great pizza and a great environment—definitely worth the detour.

If you haven’t noticed, food is a high priority when traveling with Coen. It’s basically one of our primary love languages on the road—right up there with playlists, pit stops, and pretending we’re racing the rain.

Exploring Downtown Hot Springs with Kids

After food, we decided to explore downtown Hot Springs—a highlight of any trip to Hot Springs Arkansas with kids. We hit the trails behind the bathhouses. We checked out the hot springs bubbling right out of the ground—literal steaming water flowing like something out of a fantasy novel.

While Coen has been on these trails before, this time felt brand new to him. Maybe it was the freedom of exploring without having to navigate around his big sister’s pace or preferences, or maybe it was the thrill of getting to choose which direction to go without debate. Either way, he was fully in explorer mode—darting off the path, investigating mossy stones, and stopping to admire even the smallest bugs like they were rare museum artifacts.

And then: the groundhog.

A very large one, ambling across the path like he owned the place. Coen froze, wide-eyed, then slowly turned to me and whispered, “That’s the biggest squirrel I’ve ever seen.”

We stood still and watched him for a long moment before he disappeared into the brush.

Another unexpected treasure found. Just one of the many reasons we keep coming back to Hot Springs Arkansas with kids.

A Tunnel of Trees and a Trail to the Sky

Coen wasn’t done yet. He drove us higher and higher up the mountain that rises right out of downtown Hot Springs. At one point, he spotted a trail that paralleled an old abandoned building and disappeared into what looked like a tunnel of trees heading straight up.

He was off like a rocket. I was… not. Huffing and puffing behind him, I tried to keep up as he charged uphill like a kid on a mission. You’ll see in the photos—he’s always way up ahead, a blur in the distance.

Is it a good sign when you have to use the zoom on your phone just to keep your child in frame? Unclear. But watching him charge up that trail on his own terms, confidently exploring the mountain without hesitation, it felt like one of those parenting wins we don’t always get to celebrate in real time.

Rain, Ice Cream, and Jelly Bean Stories

Eventually, the rain started moving in again. I had to verbally drag Coen back toward the car, which was no small task—he has the uncanny ability to make every detour feel urgent and mission-critical. After many zigzags, scenic pauses, and “Wait! Look at this rock!” moments, we finally made it back to the truck.

As we pulled out of town, headlights on and windshield wipers blazing, we spotted it: an ice cream stand.

Should we? Shouldn’t we?

Yeah… like that was ever actually a question.

I stood in the rain to order our ice cream while Coen bounced from picnic table to picnic table. He ran his hand through the beaded-up water on the wooden boards, laughing like he was casting spells. It was pure joy—rain, sugar, and freedom in one perfect moment. We were soaked, sticky, and totally content.

Back at the hotel, we finally crashed—sort of. The sugar high had other plans. Coen launched into a fresh round of Jelly Bean stories. According to him, Jelly Bean had discovered a secret tunnel in his closet and now moonlights as a ninja when no one is looking.

Final Thought

Day One was supposed to be the lead-up to the big adventure, but honestly—it felt like its own epic tale. It reminded me that the moments between destinations are often the most meaningful. Scraped knees, rain-soaked ice cream, stealthy kittens with ninja skills, and running to keep up with your kid on a mountain trail—these are the memories that stick.

---

Part two will cover the mine itself—where the rocks sparkle, the sunscreen runs, and we learn why you never underestimate an 8-year-old with a shovel.