My best friend and I went on vacation with my parents, who are in their 70s. I wish we hadn’t waited so long to do it.

My best friend and I leave a trail of sand from our day at the beach as we hurriedly run ahead of my parents, beach cruisers haphazardly parked outside the rental.

We’re on a mission to hide a disheveled Barbie doll named Trixie (a victim of a DIY haircut long ago), somewhere hilariously unexpected in the house.

It’s a favorite pastime of ours — and the best part is the suspense while we await the discovery, which prompts uncontrollable laughter when my mom or dad finds Trixie posing in the microwave.

This was just one of our staple summer vacation antics that my best friend and I had been performing since meeting in the last two flute seats of band class at 12 years old.

Fast forward 30-plus years, and the only thing that’s changed is that we’re grown adults with careers and children (hers: human, mine: canine), and we’ve swapped soda for cocktails.

These days, I’m based in New York and she’s in Texas, so we mostly only see each other once a year on a specially chosen annual trip.

This time, instead of relaxing in Jamaica or road-tripping through Arizona, we decided to hijack a long weekend of my parents’ monthlong vacation on the Florida Gulf Coast.

The trip was a reunion 13 years in the making that took us right back to the good old days

Mom and Dad, both in their early 70s, were happy to oblige and let us 43-year-olds join them.

Growing up, Erin was like a bonus daughter to my parents — she spent weeks on end at my house during summer break, never missed a Friday pizza night, and always joined our family vacations.

But with life taking us both to various corners of the world, it had been 13 years since they last saw her.

So, when the opportunity arose to crash my parents’ vacation in Siesta Key, we chose to make the reunion finally happen as our annual trip, leaning into multigenerational travel with nostalgic flair.

The two of us brought along matching pool floats and all of our old shenanigans, including Trixie’s understudy, Tricia, courtesy of Erin’s young daughters.

As soon as we arrived, it was just like our beach jaunts of yesteryear, all of us under one roof in a house rental, sharing meals, laughs, sunshine, and for Erin and me, a room with bunkbeds.

Each morning, we chatted with my parents over coffee before hitting the beach to lounge and search for seashells like we used to, reminiscing about that one time my mom allowed us to bring 92 of them home, for some reason.

Between the great company and mix of old and new favorites, we had an amazing time

Dinners were spent listening to live music with a bowl of clam chowder at our favorite haunt, the dollar-bill-ridden Siesta Key Oyster Bar, and discovering new spots like Casa Masa, where the margaritas on tap and housemade blue-corn tortilla chips still have me swooning.

Then, we’d round out the evening with card games at the house, snickering around the dining table while we waited for my parents to notice Trixie hanging upside down from the light fixture above us.

As a little surprise, I organized a sunset beach picnic for us girls, and it was such a great way to share a memorable experience with my mom and best friend.

My dad picking us up for our ride home after we wined and dined on the beach was the nostalgic cherry on top.

Although my career as a travel writer allows me to venture to far-flung places (sometimes with Erin in tow), the slower pace and walk down memory lane with my parents in Siesta Key made this one of the most fulfilling trips I’ve had in a long time.

Going back to basics turned out to be the exact type of vacation I needed, with quality time well spent.

I left with a slew of special memories made with some of my favorite people all together in one place, and sure of one thing: We won’t be going another 13 years before doing this again.