Biking at the Beach

meet cousin Vienna

Beach baby, Beach baby, there on the sand. . .

my great-grandmother and I chillin' like villians.

Some of Uncle Ryan's Beach Pics

5:30am

What does a Toddler and their parent look like before the sun rises? Surprisingly, mom, dad and I were not the only parent-child duos taking to the streets in the wee morning hours so that the rest of the households could sleep. Even in the little town of Wellsboro, we saw stroller and kiddos in hand, dawning the streets in the midst of the dawn itself.

I kept my tradition of last year's vacation slumber (waking up between 4:30 and 5:30am each morning for the entire two weeks. These pictures are with mom, but actually it was dad that treated me to most of my morning outings. We saw cows, towns, beaches, donut shops. . .


At the beach before the sun rose. Dad had the great idea to rent bikes with a seat on the back for me.

The sun rising over the ocean behind me.


And here is mom and I in a bagel shop in Wellsboro.

Swinging on a Star

Vacation take 1

the slunker


Aunt T and Great Mom Mom on Brown's Lake


Mom and dad's blueberry-picking date


a truly nice shot of great mom mom




corn and beans baby!



my head most of vacation- smothered in suntan lotion


whipped frosting for the tike


Timothy playing his banjo

Dad sporting the monitor as I sleep

Back in Action

The crickets have been replaced by the hum of engines.
The locusts have been replaced by the chirp of rap songs.
Home again, I contemplate the wonders of the past two weeks of vacations.

I sit, smoking my pipe, thinking through the rises and falls of the toddler psyche.
Friends, I am now two years old and frankly, I'm loving it.

As the pigeons squawk me to a deep slumber this evening, I rest in gratefulness to my extended families. Thank you for the vacations.


You may not recognize me anymore. Post vacation, I now can sleep without my pacifier, throw a football backwards, say "nana" (for banana), "this way," and "okay." I'm a pro-biker, a cow fan, and a funnel-cake enthusiast.

My bro is doing well, according to mom. She hides him in her stomach. Weird.

There will be pictures to come in the next few posts with more details, but here is the lowest and highest point according to me.

Highest point: It's a toss up between my arrival at Uncle Bruce's cabin to find out that Pop Pop and Mom Mom had lugged up a little tikes basketball net for me (!) and the evening I carried an entire pile of dirty clothes, one at a time, shrieking with joy, running at full speed, from the back bedroom to my mother in the living room at the house we stayed in at the beach.

Lowest point: The drive home. The 6 1/2 hour trip turned into a 9 1/2 hour trip in the midst of a heat wave in New York City. No air conditioning. Mom with heavy car sickness. I resorted to chucking things out the window in hopes that it would make them stop the car. My shoe stopped the car, but none of my other tries worked. I have lost window privileges.