Until they are really really not. James is not a boater. Doesn't like the life jacket, doesn't like the motor noise, doesn't like the wind. Hate hate hate. He was momentarily happy while we were feeding him turkey sandwiches and fruit, you know, just long enough for us to take a leisurely cruise away from the house, ensuring that we would be listening to at least thirty minutes of terrified screaming on the way home. You know, when the food ran out. And there wasn't any Benadryl.
You cannot be serious.
The brothers had a nice little picnic on the way out of the harbor.
Oh, this is nice, we thought. So relaxing and enjoyable.
And a large boat passed by and made a wake that rocked our boat and James. Was. Done. The rest of us continued to have a lovely time. Ryan and I passed a screaming James back and forth, trying every conceivable position to help him relax.
Look at the osprey! We told the boys. We saw it catch a rodent of some kind then carry it up to its nest to feed its chicks. It was awesome. James howled miserably. The osprey flew away. Charlie said "Maybe the hawk thought it was going to get attacked by a giant seagull."
We walked James up and down the length of the boat.
Do not be fooled. This child is not asleep.
Turning myself into a human swaddling blanket and singing directly into his ear also didn't work.
This kind of helped, sitting on the floor in the back of the boat. As long as there was lemonade.
Finally, we made it home, where he slept for three hours.
He thought yesterday was much more fun. He would like to go do that again. In the car.