When I was in grade school I spent my summers at Cape Cod Sea Camps in Brewster. That place remains near and dear to me as the only constant in a childhood of flux. I spent 11 summers there. The point of this is that I remember after every summer (I used to go for 3 weeks, and then 7) my father would remark, with a sigh, “Linds, you grew up a whole year in three weeks.” Which is how I feel after being away from Gracie for 24 hours this weekend. She went to New Hampshire with our former (dearly beloved) nanny, Andrea. She came back on Sunday afternoon and I felt like she was 10 years old. I can’t articulate why, nor do I have specific stories, but she was just all grown up and funny and full of new expressions and mannerisms.
In other news, Whit climbed out of his crib on Friday. Every parent’s worst nightmare. This necessitated a rush hour drive to Natick (don’t recommend that) to go to Baby Depot at the Burlington Coat Factory (recommend that even less) to buy a crib tent. Now the little man sleeps in a very securely strapped-on cage. Grace refers to it as “Whit’s trap.” I wonder if he understands more English than we think and his tantrums upon being zipped in are because he knows the way we think about the “cozy tent.”
Oh, wow, time’s a-flying.