One thing I love about Ethan

He can't walk for more than 10 feet without hopping or skipping, and he never goes in a straight line. The world is a better place because of him.

Byram Beach, Connecticut

We took a train to Connecticut again (this time with Jennifer!) and went to Byram Beach in Greenwich.

Byram Beach is kind of cool: it's a small, sandy beach on the Sound, and there's a pool right there too, and--best of all--a snack bar that has great $2 hot dogs and frozen Milky Ways.

I say "kind of cool" because--frozen Milky Way not withstanding--I was a little disappointed in the upkeep. The swimming pool is circa-1940--maybe updated with some new surrounding cement and a chain link fence sometime around 1975. The teenagers on duty couldn't even be bothered to hose off the goose poop from the cement, and the beach had some glass, some trash in the water.

This is Greenwich, right? Yeah, okay, maybe it's for all of the losers who can't afford their own pool, or can't manage to make friends with people who have their own pool. But still.

In any case, the pool turned out to be fun despite the goose poop and rusty chain link fence. The beach turned out to be fun despite a bit of litter--we found a dead horshoe crab, which we picked up by the tail, then we found a LIVE one in the water, which we also picked up by its tail. F-U-N. And you simply cannot dislike a place with frozen Milky Ways.

We got back to New York by 6:30, then had a sushi dinner--my choice tonight.

Green's Farms Beach

The boys and I set out on an adventure to Green's Farms, Connecticut. I had previously noted on Google Maps that from the train station it's only a short walk to the beach, and there's a narrow inlet that you can cross to get to Sherwood Island State Beach. That means snack bar, which means frozen Milky Ways, and that's enough to form the basis for a trek.

Unfortunately, our train didn't stop at Green's Farms; it whizzed right on past and didn't stop until Southport. So we walked for an hour and a half back to Green's Farms, arriving at the beach at about 3pm, only to realize that you had to have a beach pass to get in.

Fortunately, the guy on duty obviously did a quick mental calculation--"balding, middle-aged white guy and his two sons walking from the estate section of Green's Farms in nothing but swimsuits on a Friday afternoon"--and said simply, "Enjoy the beach," and waved us through. I tried to be nonchalant, like I was a neighbor of Don Imus or Paul Newman, and waved back as we passed.

Unfortunately, it was high tide, and the little channel that I was so sure we could just walk across was a fast-moving river about 50 feet wide and definitely over our heads. So we just waded around a bit in the seaweed-strewn water, looked at some shells and dead crabs, then trekked over to the Green's Farms station at 4:30 and caught a train back to NYC.

(Fortunately there was a bar car on the train, so we got sodas and pretzels. And when we got home we met Jen for dinner. Unfortunately, it was her choice, so it was a tapas restaurant.)

Jones Beach

We're in that period of ennui right at the end of summer, a week before school starts and summer ends. However, if we think positive thoughts and cram in as many water activities as we can, we will keep summer from ending.

Jen (who works at the boys' school) is back at work, so I'm using one personal day each week to be with the boys in lieu of paying a babysitter to have all the fun.

Samuel recalled that when he and his friend John went to Jones Beach there were a lot of bugs; that comment immediately sent Ethan into a panic. There were very few bugs, although we did see some jellyfish, which we did not like. We did like the big waves ("tidal waves," if you ask Ethan), and we stayed just long enough to enjoy oursleves without getting sunburned or exhausted. (My digital camera got sand or water in it, so I was forced to abandon it in favor of my camcorder for the rest of the week.)

Friday Off

Used a vacation day today and went on an adventure with the boys. Weather.com said thunderstorms all day, but we said damn the umbrellas, full speed ahead.

Took the #1 train to Christopher Street, walked west past the kinky leather shops (Ethan: "Whoa, look at THAT"). First stop, a quick dip in the new Christopher Street Fountain overlooking the Hudson River.

We headed north, pausing only for a brief photo op with a Weimaraner.

If we'd been on our adventure 30 years earlier, we would've seen the warped remains of Cunard's Pier 51. 100 years prior to that, we might've seen Herman Melville, who worked as a customs inspector at a wharf here. 50 years before that, there was a fort here, built for the War of 1812.

But, alas, in 2008 Pier 51 is a waterside playground.


The sun was still out, so we grabbed a hot dog and headed north again, passing the Cunard steel arch of Pier 54, where Titanic survivors arrived aboard the Carpathia in 1912 and--3 years later--where The Lusitania departed on its final voyage.

We found ourselves at Chelsea Piers, where we hit some balls on the driving range.

Then a game of air hockey at the Chelsea Piers bowling alley.

We burned off the last of our remaining energy at Chelsea Waterside, another very cool playground with lots of water. The storm clouds rolled in around 5:15, we made it to the bus before the downpour, and met Jennifer for dinner at EJ's.

What do you say to that?

(Ethan wails from the hallway.)

Todd: What happened??

Ethan: I fell!

Todd: Are you okay?

Ethan: No!

Todd: Let me take a look. Show me.

Ethan (scared): Is it bad??

Todd: No, it's not bad.

(Ethan wails hysterically.)

Todd: What? I said it's not bad.

Ethan: That's what you'd say if it was bad.

Laundry Lessons

If you want to be reminded how fast your children are growing up, do the laundry. Every week there's at least one article of clothing that gets discarded because the boys have outgrown it.

This week it was Samuel's red "Incredibles" pajamas. They were his favorites two years ago, when they hung somewhat loosely over his 8-year-old body. They had displaced his "Buzz Lightyear" pajamas as favorites, which had probably replaced--I don't remember now--probably Thomas the Tank Engine.

I love whatever age my kids are--I love seeing them reaching new milestones, trying new things, gaining confidence, growing up.

But--eek--I also don't.

I want them to be little boys forever. I want to be able to carry them on my shoulders forever, hear their sweet little giggles under the covers. I want to be able to hug them and hold their hands--and have them want to do the same.

I know the most important part of being a father is instilling love, and I know that will stay with them no matter what age they are, even after I'm gone.

But it's still hard to say goodbye to those little pieces of their childhood that slip away bit by bit, week by week, like the little red PJs of an incredible boy.