“What is a Mattapoisett, anyway?”

We spent our Fourth of July weekend with my friends Tom and Rebecca in Mattapoisett. Rebecca’s family owns a half-mile stretch of beach where we spent an absolutely perfect summer day. The whole clan was there, four generations. There were a lot of kids, and so many watchful moms that I was able to relax a bit. Nate built sandcastles and played with a toy dump truck; we went for a walk and waded in the tide pools; Tom taught me how to pick and clean mussels, and Becky’s mom cooked them up for us; and we built a campfire and toasted marshmallows for S’Mores. That last one was a bit of a challenge, as there was a bit of an onshore breeze (probably 10-12 knots), but my Scout training came through. Rebecca’s grandfather was impressed: “Howinhell did you build a fire in all this wind?”

I think the best moment of the day was when Nate managed to climb to the top of the big rock all by himself. I had to sit on my hands to keep from going over to him, afraid he would fall. But he was so proud when he got up there, I’m glad I didn’t help.

Pahty in the pahk

Our town has a big Fourth of July carnival on the town common every year. Nate only wanted to ride the train, so we did that about nine times. He was not entirely clear on the concept of waiting in line, which led to a few tears when someone else got to ride in the cab and he had to ride in the caboose, but I think he enjoyed himself. Here he is with his best friend Jennifer.

(Click for a larger image)

I can’t wait until he’s old enough for fireworks.

Last Sunday was a triple-header party. Both Francis and Christopher were celebrating their birthdays, at Sue’s house, on the same day as their neighborhood block party.

Nate ate several desserts and had just the best time watching his cool older cousins ride their bikes and be cool. The first words out of his mouth on Monday morning were, “Wasn’t that a great party, Daddy?” We talked about it a lot over the next few days.

Wednesday afternoon, I got a call from day care. Nate had caught the 12-hour stomach bug and needed to go home. I caught the next train and went in to pick him up.

He was sitting on his teacher’s lap, pale as a ghost, huddled in his blanket. I picked him up, and he threw up on my shoes. Then he looked up at me, and said, “That was a great party, huh, Daddy?”