Strawberry Festival

Growing up, my gymnastics team marched in the Strawberry Festival parade every June, in which we did sweet tricks in our red body suits and white shorts that our moms bought at Jamesway and tried to make sure we didn’t land in horse crap. This, and sunburns and burning my hands on hot tumbling mats, are my childhood memories of the Strawberry Festival.

This year was Henry’s first Strawberry Festival. He did not wear a red body suit or white shorts. 

We ate strawberries:

And watched the parade:

  
There were fire trucks and white people and fried food.

  
And the big kids helped the little kids get the candy out of the street before they got run over by a fire truck or a white person eating fried food. 

  
Then we dropped Henry off at the church tent and went and tasted lots of wine in another tent. 

  
(He was with his Gangy, and it was a Methodist church, so, totally fine.)

Then we stopped at my aunt’s house to use the bathroom, but she was not home, so Tim and I may have peed in her backyard. Successful day all around. 

24 hours in Fire Island

This is another backdated post. You’ll be OK.

This past weekend we ventured out to Fire Island Pines and stayed with some friends who have a summer house there. After Henry’s friend Penny’s birthday party in Queens, we took a bus to a subway to a Long Island Railroad train to a ferry

to a waiting, tipsy Omar on the Fire Island Pines Marina dock (no pictures of that).

Tranport tally: bus, subway, train, boat. It was like it was HENRY’s birthday. And Mommy and Daddy got to have a beer on the boat because of course the Fire Island Pines Ferry dock has a bar. Fire Island starts at the ferry. With this view:

Then it was a quick stop at the one grocery store where we were the weirdos not wearing bathing suits and on to the lovely house where our friends very, very graciously let us stay, and let Henry wear their shoes. He loved the shoes.

Then, it was beach time.

With all the sand around Henry was not interested in the ocean.

While the boys went to tea dance, Tim and I watched the sunset on the ocean and drank white wine while Henry tried not to fall asleep on Tim’s lap. Then it was back to the house, where the kiddo slept and Tim and I were regaled with Fire Island Pines stories into the night.

Because two-year-olds get up with the sun and adult friends on the weekend don’t, we were out of the house very early and took a walk. Tim described Fire Island as a mix of camp and the beach. No cars are allowed on Fire Island (thus the ferry) except for an emergency vehicle, so all of the “roads” are wood walkways. There’s really no reason to not wear your bathing suit at all times and shoes at no times.

Then some beach time, followed by brunch, followed by more beach time. This time, because all the boys were going in the water, Henry wanted to too.

Then it was back to the ferry, then the train, then the subway, none on which Henry fell asleep. Even though it was only for 24 hours, it felt longer, and the trip, even with a toddler, was relaxing.

Now, here is your reward for making it to the end of the post.

(Video courtesy Omar.)