We spent a lovely July fourth weekend with family friends in beautiful Marion, MA -- a trip which is now becoming an annual tradition,
much to our delight. There was eating, drinking, sand castle making,
tennis playing, rocks into the ocean throwing, syntax mangling (see
"rocks into the ocean throwing") and, yes, pooping in the wind.
This
last item was actually quite poetic, the poop part notwithstanding. We
were enjoying a lovely evening at the house of the family matriarch.
After supper, the children -- ours and numerous others -- were
frolicking in the yard overlooking Buzzard's Bay. Elsa and Clio were
particularly interested in wheeling a baby stroller around and around a
patch of high grass and fern, and at one point Elsa seemed to have been
stuck in one spot for a long while. Alastair went over to see what was
happening and Elsa told him she was, you know -- busy -- and asked him
to go away. Alastair reported back to me, saying "Elsa is a bear in the
woods." (Get it?) So, a few more minutes passed and I went down to see
what was up, and collect her for a diaper change, but she still wasn't
interested in going anywhere:
ME: Should we go inside and change your diaper?
ELSA: No. I want to stand here. It's windy!!
ME: Yeah, it is windy. Are you still making a poop?
ELSA: Yeah.
ME: OK, so you want to just stay here?
ELSA: Yeah. I want to poop in the wind.
The
girl really does have an appreciation for the finer things in life,
no? She had another poetic diaper moment at another point during the
weekend, when I was changing her diaper while she was lying on the
grass, and she looked up at the foliage of the oaks, blowing in the
wind, and said "the trees are playing peekaboo with me!"
But I will subject you to no more poop anecdotes. Instead some pictures:
Here
we all are watching the Marion Fourth of July Parade. Note the way the
sunlight -- a rare thing in New England these days -- glares off our
pale, pasty New England legs.
More pics after the jump
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