Mr.Cheerful

I've driven to Newburyport and back three times this week. That's 3 more times than I've made that trip in the last 2 years. Day one, I worked with Lil... whom I first met when she was 3, and who is now somehow this incredibly beautiful, capable, put together young woman, totally able to run a large jewelry store. How on earth did that happen?

The next couple days, I just drove back and forth, delivering. Yesterday, I took Sawyer to the riverwalk there, and let him look at the boats. He made friends. Lots of friends. Friends with dogs, and people, and the harbor master, and fishermen... His vocabulary consists only of nouns, but he gets his point across.

HI FRIEND!

umm, Hi!

WHAT DOING?!

I'm fishing...

FISH! FISH! NOM NOM NOM! (Sings a little 'fishing' song in the style of a Pteranadon..)

do you, umm, like fish?

FISH! WHERE FISH? YAY! (Looks in bucket, sees fish already caught) HEY! HEY! GOOD JOB! (Gives two thumbs up to random fisherman, continues down the pier... repeat ad nauseum for an hour, with the same enthusiasm for fish heads, seagulls, an elderly couple, and a shitzu.)

It is absolutely impossible not to be in a good mood when confronted by Sawyers relentless cheerfulness. He really, really, loves people. And things. And animals. And food. He is the most cheerful person I've ever met. He thinks strangers are his best friends that he has not met. This, occasionally, makes life interesting.

This morning, on the beach:

(Me, laying on my belly in the sand, taking photos) Sawyer! No! You can NOT shoot us with the water gun! No!

Sawyer nods, turns, and starts running. It's a big, flat beach, with no one on it. I let him go. Take a picture. Notice in the LCD screen that there's a person in the picture, and that Sawyer is headed straight for her. Look up. Yep, he's barreling towards a complete stranger, about 200 yards away, and he's carrying a loaded water gun. I take off running.

He's gotten a few shots off before I catch up. That little guy can MOVE. The 'victim' is laughing hysterically, running in circles, trying to evade ice cold ocean water. I send up a little prayer of thanks that she has a sense of humor, and grab the salty gunman.

"Sawyer!" I say. And then stop. Where was I going with this? I told him he couldn't shoot US with the water gun, and he went and found other people to dampen. How do I explain this one?

"The watergun is for MONSTERS Sawyer, only monsters!" I say. "NOT PEOPLE."

I get a confused face in response, so I turn him bodily towards the water and say

"Monster! In the water! GET IT!" And he takes off running, again.

"Sorry," I say to the lady who is now catching her breath.

"Oh, don't worry!' She replied. "I saw him coming at me with that water gun, and I had to play along. That was fun!"

I have no idea what to say to this, besides, thank you so much. Who gets shot with freezing water by a 2 year old stranger and isn't upset? this lady. Who can pick the playmate out of the crowd? My kid. Thank you, God, for putting those two together this morning.

We spent the morning eating blue popsicles, (Smuf tongue!) digging, building, swooping through the waves and 'fishing' like a Pteradon, and learning to body surf. Yep. He tried it. On his own. With no board. If he could have closed his mouth, instead of screaming in glee, it would have been perfect. Instead, he was happy as a clam and had a belly full of water when we left.

We came home at noon, after making friends at: a hotel, where I'd left my shorts (that's the whole story. Sorry, wish it was more interesting.) and Sawyer conned the desk lady in to reading him the paper; the cops outside the hotel, who gave him a wave and a quick buzz of the sirens for no particular reason, and the drive through lady at Starbucks, who offered to babysit, any time, after Sawyer said 'Thank you' f. or his snack.

I put the kid to bed. I worked. I got him up. we drove to Newburyport and back with thankfully no adventures. We went to Hannafords.

I, being out of my mind, let Sawyer get in the 'car cart'.. which is a giant, hard to maneuver plastic car on the front of a grocery cart. Sawyer knows how to work the seat buckles, so that's useless.. which led to him both: Leaning out of the cart, waving one arm, and yelling: "ALLL ABBBOOARD!!" for five aisles... AND randomly leaving the car altogether, and wandering off at high speeds. Thankfully, there was a grand-parent type couple in the pet food aisle who had a long talk with Sawyer about their cats, our cats, our dog, their dog, and eventually played with him using a cat toy surreptisiously taken from it's wrapper. I'm not making this up. Very nice people, and they were laughing and smiling when we left, so I guess Sawyer did his job.

Commence checkout. This is a tag team effort between me, the clerk, the supervisor, and Jonathan, who happened to be standing there and whom knows Sawyer. Between us all, I managed to pay for the groceries, and only had to run and grab Sawyer from the doorway once.

Now, we've got the car cart. Which is, big, hard to maneuver, and loud. I lead Sawyer to the corral IN the store, and we ditch it. Which leaves me with a bag of ice, a bag of groceries, and a bag of dogfood. Really, I need a cart.

"Sawyer" I say. "Let me put this stuff in a little card, and we'll take it to the car."

"OK!" says Sawyer, promptly heading out the door, alone.

I whistled and slapped my leg. "Hey! Here BOy!" I called.

Sawyer stopped, turned around and came back to me. And then I realized what I'd done. I looked up, already prepared to crack up at myself, in to the eyes of another mom, who had an infant in one arm and a toddler by the hand. We locked gazes, and both began laughing, until we were both weepy. Because, when it's 100 degrees out, and you're that tired, and someone catches you whistling for your dog when you mean to catch your kid, what can you do?

I hope she's at home right now with a glass of wine, telling her husband all about it.