Way better than Sunday in the park with George. Trust me.
There was an arts festival at Quiet Waters State Park yesterday, and we got to hear some music and check out some local artists' work. The park extends down to the South River, so we were able to take Samson down there to look at the sailboats and, in what would be the highlight of his day, climb the hill that overlooks the dog beach.
Mind you, he still can't walk on his own, but something about this hill made him want to climb. And climb. And climb again. He would get to the top and simply turn around and start back down, walking in a kind of Mr. Magoo-like frenzy until we reached the trail's edge --- at which point he probably would have kept right on walking into the river had Vicki or I not been holding his hands.
Today we figured that it might be a good idea, since he's really starting to want to walk, to get him a real pair of shoes. Those Robeez are cute and all, but they're more like slippers than shoes. Slippers with dumptrucks on them, sure, but still no hard sole. So we went today and learned that young Samson has a wide foot. This news came just moments after I wondered aloud why a kids' store would stock wide sizes, as noted on their display. Apparently our little guy has Fred Flintstone feet.
In any event, he's now got these cool brown boots, size 3 1/2. Wide.
He's also got a new game to play while in his carseat. We'll have to start double-knotting.
ps: I almost forgot: It never got above 55 degrees yesterday, and while we were with Samson and enjoying his forced march, there were only a few dogs playing in the water.
There was also a kid, probably nine years old, who was soaked from jumping into the water after these dogs --- none of whom, it turned out, were his.
When the beach emptied of its canine cohort, just this kid and his dad and sister were left, and I heard the Dad say, "C'mon Kyle, you're soaked. Let's head back to the car and get you warmed up."
Vicki doesn't believe me, but I know what I heard.
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