Any Old Kind of Day

You asked me once why I never mentioned H. Was it because "he's such a little guy, he doesn't do much yet?"
That was the case a year ago but lots has changed since then.
Last Thursday H and I were at the playground outside the Cataumet Arts Center. Towards the end of our time there another little boy showed up with his father. The boy, Matthew, wasn't much bigger than H though it turned out he was only two weeks shy of his fourth birthday.
When H began climbing up to where Matthew was, the older boy announced to his dad, "here comes a baby." To which H responded, as clearly as though he'd never mumbled an unintelligible phrase in his entire life, "I not baby."
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving I was home with both the kids all day. We couldn't get our act together to get to story time at the rec. center, so by 11AM they had already started to fight over stuff and yell at each other.
I decided to take them down to Megansett. In typical preschooler fashion C protested. He didn't want to go to the beach. He didn't want to go for a walk. He didn't want to be cold. You get the picture. I drag them down anyway and the tide is out, way out, and in no time C is digging up quahogs with a stick and H is collecting snails (hundreds of them) off the jetty rocks. They collected shells and walked on the rocks and watched a man launch his kayak. Basically they had a great time for ninety minutes, then, out of nowhere H ran straight into the water. I don't know if he meant to or if he just didn't realize the tide was coming in and there was less beach to run on but suddenly he was in the water screaming. I ran out to scoop him up and then I was soaked. As I carried him to shore I looked around sheepishly because the only thing worse than having your two year old knee-deep in November ocean water is having another parent witness it and thereby label you worst, most negligent, mother of the year; meanwhile H is going into his hold-your-breath-till-you-pass-out dance. I hustled him and his bucket full of snails to the car. At this point C started crying because he didn't want to leave.
"We have to leave, your brother is soaking wet," I say, adding "if you were wet and cold, wouldn't you want to leave?"
"The water's always cold," he countered, but it was too late because I already had him in the car.
I took H's shoes off, they were filled with water, along with his wet socks and pants. I put the car blanket over him and it seemed to cheer him up.
I suggested to C we go home and do a stuck shell project, which seemed to cheer him up.
Ken returned the snails to the ocean that night after everyone was in bed, which I'm sure, cheered them up.

song: Any Old Kind of Day • artist: Harry Chapin