Yesterday, G and I finished out the week by heading back to a new favorite spot---the cove at Mitchell Field in Harpswell Neck. I call it a cove because I don't really know how else to describe it. It's not really a beach, per se...or if it is, it's more the rocky, gravelly kind that is not comfortable to lay out on. The water is Middle Bay, a sort of brackish cross between ocean and a really huge lake. It's calm, beautiful, a perfect spot for dogs and toddlers. Yesterday afternoon in particular was hard to imagine that a raging hurricane would soon be sweeping through our coastal land. The late afternoon sunlight cast such a magical golden glow on the water, making it shimmer like tiny little jewels bobbing up and down in the waves.
At first, G had what I called cement feet. He stood in one spot for about 10 minutes, refusing to move, yet delighted with all the rocks he could pick up and hurl out into the water. Soon enough he realized that he could have a little more fun while sitting down and moving around, so there he sat and played for an hour or so. Deftly picking up those rocks, turning them over in his tiny hands before tossing them as far as he could.
After just over an hour, I could tell hunger was setting in and it was time to leave. We reluctantly packed up our stuff and headed back to the car. When we got home, I quickly began to make his dinner. This is when things got fun. For some reason, he cracks up if I try to take food from his proffered fingers and then at the last second, make a chomping sound before turning away. I don't think there's any sound I love more than hearing that deep belly gutteral laugh of his.