Yesterday afternoon before dinner Mike and John took Jacob for a high seas adventure in an aluminum canoe from Camp Chickagami. Before boarding Jacob got well slathered with sunscreen, which he does not seem to mind. Then Mike tried to get his son to wear sunglasses, which Jacob minds a great deal.
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| Mike tries to put on Jacob's sunglasses... |
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| ...and Jacob promptly takes them off! |
As the guys got the canoe launched, Jacob made it clear he wanted to command his own vessel, or a suitable portion thereof. Since he couldn't take the poop deck (Grandpa John was there, steering the boat) Jacob confidently planted himself amidships. Master of the seas, he kept an eye peeled for marauding dragonflies, and for the little snake which had crawled aboard and secreted itself in the bow.
As they came past my position onshore, Jacob was checking how much water was under the keel: "I make 'er less than a fathom, Dad! Look sharp, there! And, Dad, you really need to work on your J stroke."
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| The Good Ship Jacob puts to sea. |
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| Captain J scans the horizon... |
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| ...and then finds something of interest on the deck. |
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| Jacob makes sure the old guys don't run aground. |
Unfortunately, John and I did not find time to split firewood. His initiation into the holy mysteries will have to wait for another visit, for my guests are returning to Detroit today. Having Clare, Mike, and Jacob under my roof for four days has been great fun. Among other joys it has led to coinage of the English language's newest word:
pooptastrophe. [
pooptastrophe n. 1 a great and usu. sudden diaper problem
2 the denouement of a gastrointestinal drama, often soon after application of a fresh diaper
3 a disastrous end to a rare parental nap] And Jacob has confirmed my longstanding belief that only our youngest truly know how to enjoy a nice handful of food. •••
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