On our way home. I’m sad. So, so sad. But relaxed, so there’s that. I think we’d be close to home already if there hadn’t been an apparently *really* bad accident on Route 6. We were stuck in stop and go traffic for over an hour. Great fun.
Can’t wait to start pullung together all the photos and video. I think a trip to Target for photo processing is in order. That should set my back a small fortune. Of course, this might be the trip that makes a photo printer a sound investment. Mr. Dump was telling my about an HP photo printer that ends up costing less per print to use than a CVS or snapfish…I am going to look it up.
More later when I am home with a real keyboard…
Just wanted to check in so you’d know I’m still alive. I’m alive! Lots of fun. Best house on the planet, my friends. I don’t think we could have picked a better one.
Don’t fight with each other while I’m gone. Today’s plans: siteseeing this morning while my sister’s family hits the beach for a walk and then a bikeride. We didn’t bring bikes (I don’t have one) so we’re just having family day.
High tide is 2:40 or something like that, so we’ll all be back for the beach then. Where we are is a large sand bar thingy (I’m up on my beach lingo) and at low tide you can walk out almost a mile, literally. I had my pedometer the first time we walked out and round trip we did almost 1.75 miles. Of course, we dawdle because there are so many different kinds of crabs and little fishies to watch and catch. Yesterday we lingered a little too long when the tide started coming back in and all the sand bars disappeared and we had to wade through thigh-deep water in areas. And high tide practically comes up to the steps you take down from the house.
So ya, we’re having a really sucky time, can you tell?
Out of the mouths of babes. You can tell this kid spends more time going to tourist destinations than being out in the great outdoors. I could have tried to mess with his head and tell him the doors open at 9, but I was a good girl, and said they are open 24 hours a day.
Almost ready to go. I plan to post if my cell phone has coverage. I’m sure there’s coverage somewhere on the Cape. Failing that, I’ll send smoke signals. Keep your eyes on the clouds.
Side Note: Made my third (4th?) trip to the Leominster Target. Dropped $200. I forbid myself from going back for at least a week. But hey, all the summer stuff was on clearance! I got a Coleman Queen Size air mattress for twenty bucks. This replaces “old reliable”, the one that I destroyed by closing the trunk on it, causing the latch to give puncture wounds. Got Junior a sleeping bag for $20, too. His old one, a trendy Blues Clues number, holds about half of him. Plus, he’s a second grader now, he can’t be seen in a Blues Clues sleeping bag. What kind of monsters are you people?
Today is Junior’s last day of camp (he isn’t going on tomorrow’s trip – he’s going to spend the day with his cousins instead). Yesterday they handed out the camp awards. I expected some sort of crazy award – the last time he got one (at the end of the school year) it was like the “flying feet” award for his crazy dancing.
So he makes me stand there while he presents me with his certificate…and I immediately get all verklempt (how do you spell that?). I had to give him a HUGE hug while I composed myself.
You see, ever since he’s been a toddler, I’ve used the phrase “are you being a good listener?” I don’t know why I use that, I just sort of made it up one day, but “you’re not being a good listener” was the replacement phrase for “Bad boy” or whatever. (Additionally, when he was really little and not listening, I’d say “do you want happy mommy or angry mommy?” to let him know that how he was behaving would have the consequences of putting me in the right or wrong kind of mood.)
I would always tell him he needed to be a good listener at daycare, preschool, school, etc. Meaning, you’d better mind your manners and pay attention to the grownups in charge. A good listener is not a troublemaker. A good listener, well, listens. If the daycare lady says you can’t play near the street, well by gum, you don’t play near the street. Etc. Etc. At our house, being a good listener means you are behaving as you should.
His camp award?
It may sound stupid to anyone outside of our house, but I have never been prouder. To me, it means my mom stuff is sticking. I am raising a great kid.
I’m not a failure as a parent.
He’s a good listener.