Revelations from a week of warm, sunny days:
1. Playing baseball in the backyard is the three-year old’s new favorite activity. Though the term “baseball” is used somewhat loosely. All it really means is we go out after dinner and I throw a Wiffle ball into the air, hit it as far as I can, let him retrieve it, and repeat. It’s pretty much fetch, only with a small human instead of a canine. After 15 or 20 minutes, he’s pretty worn out and we can head inside and wind down for bed. I think this is the same effect dog owners are going for.
2. The one-year old does not like meeting new people. I was carrying him at the playground while we watched his big brother run around. He’s got chubby cheeks, crazy hair and a Sputnik-like cranium, so he kind of stands out. This leads many people to come over and say hi to him. His response is either tears, grunting, burrowing into my chest, or some combination of the three. In this way, he is the exact opposite of his brother, who has always loved attention and yells “Hello! Nice to meet you!” out the car window to panhandlers.
3. They moved the Clynk depository at the Back Cove Hannaford. Last Saturday, with momma and big brother napping, the little guy and I decided to go get some groceries. I hadn’t been to the Back Cove Hannaford in several years because it is generally mobbed, but I figured we had plenty of time, it was a nice day … so what the heck. I grabbed our green bag of returnables and we got in the car. Once there, I plopped the boy in the cart and threw the returnables in the back. We went in the main entrance and I looked around for the Clynk drop-off spot. Couldn’t find it. Figured it must be near the other entrance. So we squeezed by packs of people and made our way across the entire front of the store. No Clynk drop-off at the other entrance, either. Bewildered, we wondered outside where we found a sign that said the Clynk had been moved to an outside location. No further details. No Clynk within site. So we made our way back across the parking lot to the original entrance to see if we missed it on the way in. Nope. Not there. Fortunately, we found an employee on a smoke break who pointed over yonder, at a diagonal, to the far end of the parking lot. There, indeed, was a Clynk trailer, roughly a quarter mile from the main entrance. Don’t know how we missed it. We trekked over and dropped off our lone bag. Oh, and the kiosk for payment slips is back near the original point of entrance, which we only discovered after reentering the store and visiting customer service. On the bright side, the create-your-own six pack option in the beer section is solid.