Alex’s Last Hurrah

I wanted to give my son a gift, before he enters a new phase of life. I wanted his last two days of small childhood to be unforgettable.

 And so on Monday, we went to Moberly. We visited Great-Grandma…

…and then left the little ones with Grandma and Grandpa so we could go out for a nice, peaceful paddleboat date.

We had to call somebody out special to unlock the boats, because the park rangers weren’t on duty. He told us to lock it back up when we were done, and he went back to his other duties, while Alex and I went out on Rothwell Lake. We enjoyed Candy Cane City from a different angle than usual…

….making friends with lily pads and generally having a nice, quiet, serene paddleboat ride.

Uh, well, not that last. Alex wouldn’t shut up. I don’t think he stopped talking the whole hour. I could not convince him that there were no sharks or killer whales in the water, and that if there were snapping turtles, they couldn’t possibly eat our boat or climb up on it and eat us. And don’t even get me started on the submarine.

Still, we enjoyed ourselves. We got back to the dock. Alex wanted to be in charge of latch and lock, but after he wrestled with an old padlock that seemed determined not to close, I had to intervene. There was a newer-looking lock, but it appeared to be closed already. I picked up the rusty lock and chain and realized it was bent, at the same moment that the (not-closed) padlock slipped off the chain and went *plop* in the water.

Bubble bubble bubble. (Pause.) Bubble bubble bubble. (Pause.) Bubble, bubble, bubble. Seriously, how could it still be sinking?

Answer: because we were at the deep end of the lake. The one right by the dam.

An hour later, we returned with my mother and a strong magnet on a long pole. But that lock had taken up permanent residence at the bottom of Rothwell Lake.

So I spent the next hour trying to get word to Parks & Rec, in terror of someone stealing a paddleboat, and me being responsible for replacing it.

(Yes, we all have our own neuroses—I can’t twit Alex for fearing sharks in a tiny lake, can I?)

Well, it all worked out, in any case, and after an unadventurous last hour out at the farm, we returned home to wolf down leftovers and head for Alex’s Kindergarten Open House.

Doing a self-portrait. Any guesses as to its identity?

He started out giving me some attitude, but he ended the night under his teacher’s spell. (At least, I think so. I hope so. Otherwise it’s gonna be a long year. Or thirteen.) And we celebrated by going out for ice cream with a schoolmate.

Now there’s a boy who loves his ice cream!

Yesterday we went to Bonkers with friends, and thank God, it was an enjoyable, completely uneventful two hours. Well, except for the boy who turned the lights off in the bathroom while Alex was in there…but that’s another story.

And now, the paradigm shifts. We spent last night frantically sharpening pencils, scrambling to plan who’s in charge of transport when, and how early we have to get kids up to make it happen. Things we should have had figured out sooner than the night before school starts!

By the time most of you read this, we will officially have entered a new phase of life: school years.

Bring it on, baby.

Find other wordy photographers at Angie’s Seven Clown Circus.