Last year I taught my three older children to play Dungeons and Dragons. Thomas loves it and badgers me constantly to play, but Mary and Robert will only play when there is nothing else to do. In Maine after dark, in our little house without cable tv or xbox, there was often nothing to do, and we played almost every night. We taught Ben to play, and he took to it like a fish to water, or an otter to sliding, or a chimp to making hooting sounds, or something. I asked him what the best part of our trip to Maine, he said, "Dungeons and Dragons!!!" Thomas came home so into it that he has started running a game for his friends, and the maps he has drawn are the neatest and most careful things he has ever drawn or written.
All of which I think is pretty cool.
But back in Maine -- on Thursday my brother arrived at my sister's place on the busy, stylish part of the island (Northeast Harbor). I took several children over. We went sea kayaking, my sister taking Clara in her boat, me taking Ben, and Robert and Thomas in a boat together. Robert had never steered before, and we later discovered that his boat had a balky rudder, so he had lots of trouble. Of course he blamed Thomas, and they proceeded to squabble and shout there way across the harbor, paddling in circles. I took pictures which I assure you were both poignant and hilarious but lost them when I dropped my camera in the harbor. :-(
Friday I went on a great hike with my brother and my 18-year-old niece, who walks a great deal faster than I do. We went up the Beehive, a famous steep hike with lots of iron ladders. We were there at 8 AM and went up with no trouble. Getting there early is important, because this is such a popular hike that by 10 the trail is clogged with people struggling up very slowly. We descended the other side of the hill on a more gradual slope down to a pond called The Bowl, where we watched huge tadpoles and schools of minnows swim in the crystal clear water. Then we went up another mountain the name of which escapes me. Back at my sister's we divided into kayaks for a paddle of over a mile across the harbor to Little Cranberry Island. I was with Mary in the kayak with the balky rudder, and we took such a twisting course that we added at least half a mile to the route. I arrived quite tired. And then had to paddle back.
Meanwhile, Lisa had Clara and the boys and went to the Sand Beach, where they played in the water.
Saturday we headed home via our friends David and Lori's house in Acton, Massachusetts. We were early and our children were restless, so we went to Concorde and stopped by the North Bridge unit of the battlefield. There, on April 19, 1775, American militia were first ordered to fire on British troops, beginning a battle that lasted for hours as Americans harassed the British retreat. We tried to impress a little of the history on our unruly brood but for them it was mainly a sunny place to run and play. One thing I love about my children is how much fun they can have with just an open place to run in.
We played Pooh Sticks on the North Bridge. (Terminological note: Pooh Sticks is what this game seems to be called, but I invented it myself as a child without ever reading A.A. Milne, as no doubt have thousands of other children, since it is a perfectly obvious thing to do, so I don't much care for the name. Pooh has no claim on this game. But I suppose it has to be called something.)
We ran in the field. We climbed a tree. Our sons roughhoused.
And I, at least, spent a while looking at the spot and thinking about what happened there 234 years ago. It was one of the most fun parts of the trip, an absolutely delightful hour.
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