It seems like just yesterday that we helped Sarah’s parents strip everything off their boat in preparation for the end of summer last year. The pictures are still on my digital camera. The S2 logo is usually covered with canvas. She looks so naked without her dodger. We put the boathooks in the sail locker and stowed all the cushions in the attic.

Nate helped, of course. Mostly he helped eat all the grapes, but he was quite efficient. And he climbed up and down the companionway. I hovered over him, nervously. He had just turned three, and he was pretty surefooted, for three. But that’s not terribly surefooted, from an adult perspective—especially around the water.

From the minute he could walk, he loved to run. I would always chase after him, yelling “run on the grass, please!” because I knew it would hurt less when he took the inevitable header. Of course he had his share of skinned knees and bumped noses, but he never let it slow him down.

Blink, and you’ll miss it. Fall, winter, spring, nine months gone, just like that. Now he’s almost four; the snow is forgotten, we have to wear sunscreen again, and the boat is back in the water. We were headed down to the boatyard over Memorial Day weekend to load her up. I went to the House of Grous to pick Nate up from his sleepover. He burst out of the front door and fairly flew across the lawn, laughing with joy. Not one false step. I had to stop and think: when did this happen? When did he stop being a toddler? When was the first time he was able to open the car door by himself? When did I stop having to hold his hand on the stairs? When did he learn to zip his own jacket, to button a button, to pour milk on his cereal?

We got to the boat, and true to form, he had to go up and down the companionway a hundred times. I swear he’s part cat; when he’s in, he wants to be out, and when he’s out, he wants to be in. But this is a steep ladder, and he makes it look easy. He can do it by himself. Naturally, he thinks he can do everything by himself. But in this case, he really can do it by himself.

This time, he ate all the watermelon. He’s a good helper.

When he was ten weeks old, we took him to Salt Marsh Pottery to have his handprints and footprints cast in ceramic (and decorated with impressions of a starfish, a scallop shell, and a seahorse). It’s hanging on an earthquake-proof Ook in the hallway. Sarah said that in the event of a fire, assuming we could all get out safely, she would want to save the wedding album and the baby print tile.

Every so often, I’ll hold him up so we can see how much bigger his hands are now. It’s hard to believe he was ever that small.

Last night he lay down in the bathtub and stretched out. For the first time, his toes touched at one end and his fingers touched at the other end. He’s growing, right before my eyes. I can almost see him getting taller.