in which a boat is bigger than originally thought.

We've been doing our regular summer traveling, up to the Seattle area for one family, and out to Cape Cod for another. I wound up being out of the office for at least half of July. This meant being gone when the completely new team structure at work began, but since I was reading books and playing in the water with my kid and my niece, the first part of the re-org went very smoothly for me.

J keeps growing up, and this time he was a perfect traveler, with nary a single meltdown before, during, or after, where previously he would do well in transit and then be a mess the next day. There was a bit of shouting at other kids or when losing too much at games, but that's to be expected. I watched him start crabbing at some kid his size who was with J on our small moored sailboat.

"Okay, come here. Why are you shouting at this kid who's all the way on the other end of the boat?"
"He's trying to take the whole thing."
"Are you sure? It looked to me like you were each staying on one end of the boat and there was plenty of space."

[inaudible grumbling]

"Did you ask his name?"
Annoyed. "Yes, it's Oliver."

That's actually pretty impressive.
"Did you tell him your name?"

Still annoyed. "No!"
"You didn't tell him you are Count Grumble von Hmphenstein?"

The smile begins.

"And that this is your boat, the Hmph of the Sea?"

Giggling!

"Based out of Hmph Harbor, Cape Cod?"

Victory!

"How about you assume Oliver is willing to share the boat, and you go talk to him?"

And then there was playing! Or at least bits of conversation and acknowledged coexistence. We try not to be too picky.

Getting the hang of this whole "parenting" thing. Just in time for the boy to hit adolescence...