Burning Man With a Toddler: Finding Magic in the Dust
By Anna Borson
I came to Northern Nevada five years ago as a travel RN in the thick of the pandemic. I’m from the Midwest but had spent the last few years exploring the Western U.S. and all it had to offer. The Sierras and Lake Tahoe lured me here, but I stayed because life had other plans—like turning me into a mother less than a year later.
Back then, Burning Man was something I had never heard of. My partner, however, was basically raised on playa dust, having been to Black Rock City many times, even leading camps and working on art installations. The way his eyes lit up describing it made me curious.
The year after our son, August, was born, we decided to go. Augie was barely two, and as a newer mom, I wanted to preserve my right to stay up all night without worrying about hydration schedules, nap schedules, and—well—any schedules. We were already adventurous (our kid had been to Europe, Mexico, backpacking, even camped in the Black Rock Desert at six weeks old), but Burning Man felt like a level you shouldn’t attempt without a walkthrough guide. So, we decided to wait another year to take him.
When we went that summer without our son, it was magic. The art, the people, the serendipitous moments—everything exceeded my expectations. Carrying a phone around isn’t really a thing out there, so I brought a Polaroid camera and gifted families we met with tiny photos of their kids. Watching them cradle these instant little memories, dusty and grinning, filled me with joy and made me long to share this wonder-filled place with my own little guy.
So, the next year, we decided to take him. We had no idea how our week in the desert with a toddler would unfold, but that was part of the magic. We’d prepared for just about everything—extra food, shade, water, gear—yet the true heart of the trip wasn’t in the planning but in the moments that couldn’t be scheduled: the laughter echoing through dusty air, the wide-eyed wonder in Augie’s face, and the way each day revealed something unexpected.
Black Rock City is a literal playground. The sights, the sounds, the feelings—being on playa feels like stepping back into childhood. It draws you into the present, urging you to connect deeply with those around you and with yourself. The city is what you make it, and for us it was overwhelmingly positive. Energy builds in the days leading up to Man Burn, and since we arrived with Augie on Monday, each day the momentum grew stronger. We spent the week together before taking him back to Reno to stay with his Nana for the weekend, and in those few days, he lived entirely in the moment—carefree and joyful.
Parenthood has taught me that kids are far more adaptable than we often give them credit for. Despite the heat, dust, and lack of routine, August thrived. He was constantly smiling, taking in every sight, sound, and interaction with pure delight. Many parents told us they wouldn’t bring their kids to Burning Man, but having ours there made everything richer. His presence attracted mostly warmth from strangers—people offering gifts, inviting us onto art cars, and sharing in the wonder of seeing the playa through a child’s eyes.
The desert is as harsh as it is beautiful. That year, we stayed in Kidsville with our Toyota Tacoma and camper topper, equipped with homemade swamp coolers, shade structures, mister fans, and cooling towels. The midday heat was intense, and I worried about naps and overnight sleep with the constant music and bass. Yet Augie adapted—napping in the shade, exploring in the mornings and evenings when the sun was gentler, and sleeping surprisingly well despite the chaos. By week’s end, the wind had picked up and so did his excitement. He started resisting his dust mask, but even then, his resilience shone through.
If you’re thinking about bringing a child to Burning Man, know this: it’s possible, and it can be magical, but it takes preparation, flexibility, and a good sense of humor. Here’s what worked for us:
- Keep Them Cool: A sturdy structure is essential. We slept in the truck camper and ran a small rechargeable humidifier to keep the dust down at night. Handheld misting fans and cooling towels dunked in ice water and wrapped around his neck were lifesavers in the hottest moments.
- Keep Them Hydrated: Juice boxes, electrolytes, fruit, applesauce packs—kids love options. Constantly offering something new to drink kept him both happy and hydrated.
- Practice Dust Gear: Goggles and masks aren’t always toddler-approved. Letting him pick out his own and wearing them at home beforehand made him excited to use them. During the day, he rode shotgun on Dad’s bike in a Thule Yepp Mini; at night, he had more dust protection in his chariot bike trailer, decorated with lights and stocked with snacks.
- Protect Sleep: Black Rock City never gets quiet, but the stimulation helped Augie adapt to the playa’s rhythm. We made a nightly routine of cleaning off dust to mimic bath time at home, helping him settle.
- Lower Your Agenda: We didn’t see it all, and that was okay. By following our kid’s pace, we discovered the best magic was often right in our own neighborhood—or even in our camp.
- Overpack the Essentials: Salty and hydrating snacks, 15 pairs of socks, sunscreen, wipes—bring more than you think you’ll need. The desert is tough on supplies.
Taking our three-year-old to Burning Man opened the door to a whole different experience—slowing down, leaning into wonder, and experiencing the playa through his eyes. Looking back, the trip was a blend of preparation, improvisation, and trust in ourselves, the BRC community, and the magic that only the playa can offer.
If you’ve never been, I urge you to experience Burning Man on your own before bringing a child. When I came back to Reno after that first trip, I had this incredible feeling of being rewilded, like a part of myself had returned after two years of postpartum life.
Motherhood changes you, yes—but sometimes it just takes a little playa dust to remember you’re still in there.