I had really wanted to enter G into their annual Diaper Derby, but a long morning nap prevented us from registering and getting there on time. Yeah, you heard me. Diaper Derby. Can you imagine? Babies and toddlers crawling, walking, toddling, their way through the set course, while competitive parents yell "This way, Sally!" "Jack, over HERE!" Perhaps it's just as well we missed it.
So we arrived just before noon, snagging parking down the road in a $5 lot, which wasn't bad considering I had passed a couple of $10 lots that weren't any closer than this one was. We made the trek to where all the activity was, passing vendors of fried clams, sausage rolls, fried dough, basically your typical carny food, but mostly revolving around the star of the show---the clam. It wasn't long before I shelled (no pun intended) out my $9 for a little cup of the crumbly clams. G, at first content to snack on some fresh honeydew, was instantly intrigued by what I had going on in that cup and held out his hand for a taste. He definitely enjoyed the batter. The clam itself? Well, even though he's already got a mouthful of teeth, it seemed like a lot of work for him to get through that little strip. But he seemed to enjoy it, and considering fried clams are some of Mama's AND Grampie's favorite Maine things, I have no doubt as he gets older, he'll learn to appreciate them more. Just maybe not at this festival. After coming to Maine for 30 some odd years, and clams being one of the very first seafood's I probably was introduced to, I feel like I'm a good judge of their quality. These were, well, for $9, let's just say a bit sub-par. I can think of at least two places where I can honestly say I've had the best clams ever. But again, it was one of those things where you say you've been and you don't need to go again.
|Taking that first chewy bite|
|I think I'll have a little more of this.|
|N was very interested in what G's tray had to offer|
|G likes to find my wallet and steal it. He's a masterful pickpocket.|
|Post ice cream.|
Luckily, Yarmouth is only a 15 min or so drive from home, so soon enough we were back, G down for his second nap and me in the recliner to join him. It's this type of weather that I also feel for our animals. Winston is a particularly fuzzy furry cat, and when I find them flaked out on the cool linoleum of the bathroom floor, I know they must be struggling.
On Saturday, G and I had a much better time visiting Grammie and Grampie, who we hadn't seen since Father's Day. Naturally, G had to show off his newly masterful walking skills, to which now their house was a whole new fun place to explore. He was a rascal that's for sure, but delighted the grand 'rents in his ability to steadily make his way across the hard wood floors to receive a hug or a cuddle.
Per my request, my dad grilled his amazing burgers for lunch. I don't know if it's how he seasons them or just the fact that they're done on the grill, but his burgs are delish and I couldn't wait to smell those meaty waftings as soon as he started cooking. They did not disappoint. One of the sure signs of summer for me is having a dad-burger. Yum.
|I loooove watermelon.|
|On a mission with Giraffe|
|Love this cutie.|
|Grampie and Boo: staredown!|
And now it's the beginning of a full week again. Summer is all of a sudden flying by. The temps are hot. The tourists are here in full force. T is home this week because, as he likes to say, G's 'school' is on vacation. I wish I could be home with them. But alas, no vacation for me until October. Instead, I'll just look forward to my evenings with the boys and wait for another glorious weekend to be upon us.