Today was a sort of bummer, since Ken had to go back to work. Boo. But, here's some highlights from days 4 and 5 of his vacation. And maybe 6, too, since I'm old and can't remember things like this.
The weather was made to order. Sunny, low 80s, just enough humidity to remind you that it's summer. Gorgeous. The kids played in the amazingly durable blow up pool while Ken and I spent all day making dinner.
Yes. All day. Ken got a piece of pig that he smoked and barbequed Memphis-style. I made ravioli from scratch. It took a long time.
It was delicious and one of the best meals I've ever made. I do not want to do it again for another several months. Because I'm lazy.
Oh, and in between being lazy and rolling out ravioli, I made Lotus a dress. With my own hands. And my mom wasn't there to do it for me when I got bored with the whole process.
There it is. Isn't it darling? Isn't it whimsical? Isn't it summery and innocent and cheery?
Isn't it totally and hopelessly cockeyed?
The next day, we went back to the beach. We took Chris, the neighbor's son, who informed us that this was the third time he'd ever been out of Connecticut. Ken and I stared at each other, horrified. Connecticut is a really small place. And Chris is seven. Surely in seven years of life he'd left the confines of the Nutmeg State more than three times? We asked him if he wasn't maybe forgetting some trips? Maybe he didn't realize that he had actually left Connecticut? He was firm and unwavering in his response. He had left Connecticut twice, and today's outing was number three.
So I called his mom. She assured me that her son was a weirdo and that his grandmother used to live in Massachusets and where did he think they were when they went to vistit her?
He just shrugged.
We got to the beach, which, by the way, looks like this:
It's the kind of place that doesn't really get super excited when people like us roll up to spend a day there. It's the kind of place that gets listed as an "acceptable summer destination for the preppy set".
Yeah, I know.
But I love it, it's the ocean, and it's usually pretty empty when we go.
And it had some shells, which is all that Chris wanted.
And there was lots and lots of wind. Which was blowing sand with a consistency that made you feel like you were being slowly sandblasted out of existence.
Jude, my one with sensory issues, did not cope with the sensation well.
In fact, he started crying, and screaming, "I WANT TO GO HOME!" and eventually dealt with events the only way he could- by covering up and going to sleep.
And he slept for a good two hours just like that. When he woke up, the sand was still blasting everywhere, but he was more emotionally ready to deal with it, and just sat down in the surf, where the sand didn't blow.
Everyone had a good time, we made sure to apply sunblock more frequently than we did last time, and John-Luke found more wholesome toys to play with than dead horseshoe crabs.
Tomorrow, if you're very, very good, I'll write about our trip to Boston and the fireworks in New Britain. But not tonight, tonight I'm going to bed early.