That's how we felt about last week's "vacation" in the country. We rented the same little three-bedroom ranch overlooking the same lake as last year. Almost the same week, even. But it was different this time.
Fun's cousin is just not as carefree as Fun.
Last year we had an immovable slug, also known as our eight-month-old son:
|"I can only move a few inches per hour, like an inch worm."|
And a dog who really, really loved playing fetch outdoors:
|"Do yoo guyz wanta throe dis stick?"|
This year, there was a little less slug and a little more maniac 20-month-old. The one who found his way into the pantry, unscrewed the garlic powder and poured half of it on the floor. The one who ran straight into the road -- barefoot -- any time he escaped our grasp.
And when things did not go exactly as planned, there was always this:
|"I liked the gray-and-white striped shirt from last year better!"|
But also some of this:
|Mommy's momentary dream come true...|
And, of course, this:
|"Did sumbodee say BALL?"|
We bought lawn tickets to Tanglewood, hoping the serenity of the prior year's performance would wash over us once again. Last year, Henry basically ate his way through the program:
|"So, the other day I was telling my friend Leila..."|
I sincerely pity my future self for all the secrets my little chatterbox will divulge. So far he mainly babbles in a constant stream of the unintelligible, punctuated occasionally by the odd -- but as yet innocuous -- word: dada, baby, woof (finally!), up.
And then, in the highlight of our trip, at least for me, Henry met an actual moo cow. I admit he seemed confused. First he looked at me. Then he said "woof?" Eventually we got him to say "moo" and pet the calf. And all was right in the world.
|"But I thought you....?"|
(Who am I kidding? Fun is way better than his cousin.)