|My dad probably caught his first fish at this spot around 1955|
It was the first time that Henry saw the house, or the mountain, or the lake, which stirred up some pretty interesting thoughts and emotions in me. At 3 years old, he can (almost) sit through a meal now and (almost) sit through the 4 hour drive to the Lake House without an emotional meltdown and (almost) play in the woods without running out into the street. He sword fights with sticks. He pretends to look for bears in the rocks. He climbs. He jumps. He falls.
I get the feeling that some real adventures are coming up soon. At the same time, it's easy to see that our little baby boy is long, long gone.
"Shhhhh Daddy. If you wake up the bears, they will be very angry."