After a month of fun and frolicking, the Funny Grandson is on his way home to Texas.
This is not what he wanted. Despite his ever-patient parents giving him four water-soaked weeks at the lake, the FG was distraught when it came time to get in the van and head out. I could hear him crying all the way up the driveway.
He cried for so long and so hard and for so many miles that his mother finally had to tell him to get a grip because people were going to think he was being kidnapped.
A couple of weeks ago Banjo Man and I bought him a junior-sized kayak for an “Early Birthday” present.
Being able to kayak opened up a whole new world for him. His father refused to take it to Texas, so here it stays where I intend to try it out for myself. It’s light enough for me to drag off and on the beach by myself and then set off along the shore to look at the neighbors’ houses and watercraft.
My other option? A floaty.
It’s obviously not as sophisticated and cool as a kayak. And I yearn, in my advanced years, to be sophisticated and cool.
To be continued…