Italian Festival

Leaving boxes half-packed, pantries somewhat-cleaned, and the laundry decidedly un-done, we headed off to Nonantum tonight for the Italian festival. It was an enjoyable island of normalcy in an otherwise choppy sea.

When we came two years ago, Celia was still in a stroller and Andres was too small to go on many (any?) of the rides. Not so much this year. Big boy enjoyed the merry-go-round and a few other approved-for-little-tyke rides, and Celia even joined him for a couple rides. While she looked for stuffed animals she wanted to bring home with her, he quizzed me on the suitability of carnival rides for kids of his age.

Andres: "Daddy is that ride for big kids or little kids?"
Me: "That is a ride for only very big kids."
Andres: "Oh. Maybe one day I can go on that ride."
Me: "Maybe, and maybe you'll also get sick on that ride."

Never too early to inculcate a little skepticism about the wisdom of jumping onto old metal machines run by carnival workers.

Picture perfect.

Festival dinner.

On our way to grab dinner (hot dogs, naturally), Celia made my night by asking me to stop at the bandstand and listen to the music with her. The best things in life, like listening to a live band on a pristine summer night with your daughter in your arms, are truly free. Within an hour she was back to her carefully-cultivated teenage attitude ("But I WANT ice CREAM!! DADDY!!"), but I'll carry the more tender memory for a while. I need to build a large repository of these good memories to gird me for what undoubtedly awaits me in middle and high school.

Natalia convinced me to do one ride with the kids--a giant 4-humped slide where the slider covers about 50 vertical feet in 3 seconds or so. Standing at the top of the slide I had a moment of panic where I thought "Is this how my life will end? How do I feel about that?" before I looked at my 2.5 year old daughter, who was neither scared nor thinking about her own mortality, and thought "Ok you seriously have to get a grip here." We zoomed down together. Celia was barely off my lap before she said "AGAIN!"; naturally, it took me a minute or so to recover before making trip number two with Andres. Like his sister, he was all smiles and no trepidation. Sometimes I wonder where these kids came from. Then, zoom, down the slide in the blink of an eye. [Late video update: here's me and Celia, and then me and Andres.]

Leader of the band.

A swarm of teenagers took over the place just as the sun was setting, and we took that as our sign that it was time to go. Celia had a tantrum as we were leaving (see ice cream episode, above). Andres blew discordant notes in a brand-new plastic horn that will surely be destroyed in a matter of days. A nice change of pace from the boxes and the mess.