Farmers market debacle

Debacle part 1:

This evening the family reconvened from work, lab, and daycare in time for the usual trek to the farmers market. Along the way, baby requested that she no longer be confined to the stroller. Summer obliged and played with her:

But as baby happily swooped through the air, I spotted the problem that probably led her to seek escape from the stroller: a stain spreading across the back of her outfit.

Debacle part 2:

We were near the park, where there's plenty of room to change baby, and so we proceeded to a cozy spot. But as we settled and I rummaged through the diaper bag, I found that somewhere along the way, we'd misplaced baby's spare outfit.

So once I'd cleaned baby up, Summer fashioned a sort of toga out of a swaddle blanket we had on hand.

Baby warmed to this fashion statement right away.

Debacle part 3:

But alas! As we approached the other end of the park, where the farmers set up their stands, we saw no ongoing commerce but only packing up. It seems that in our week-long absence from the farmers market, it's been scaled back by an hour in anticipation of the shortening days.

Denouement:

Still, there were a couple options for addressing our immediate dinner needs, so we ate, and we had a nice walk home in the waning light. Fall's definitely upon us.

Back to routine

Today we were back from the beach and into routine: baby playing in baby jail ...

... and pulling herself up on the sides (today she held herself steady with one hand and tried to figure out what to do with the other one!).

Then a day at daycare -- more teething pain -- followed by a quiet evening at home. We read One White Wishing Stone to recap our beach trip.

And Madeline enjoyed delicious pizza (well, a bit of mushroom and some whole-wheat crust to gnaw).

Again she did not want to go to bed; again I expect none of us is likely to sleep terribly well.

Finally, the beach!

This morning the sun was out! Baby was ready to experience the beach properly.

She happily sported her swimsuit and hat ...

... but we decided it was still chilly enough to merit a robe, too.

Summer carefully documented each step of our trip across the street to the beach. Here we are under the house, among its stilts.

And here we've climbed and descended the stairs over the dunes; the house is in the background.

The next step was for baby to walk on sand. She was intrigued ...

... and even more intrigued by a clam shell her great-grandma found for her ...

... and still more intrigued at the vast expanse of sand she could both sit on and play with.

And so she played ...

... and displayed her clear approval.

She just couldn't get enough of the sand.

But a proper beach experience involves more than just sand: after all, what's a beach without an ocean?

And so baby dipped in her toes ...

... and then got splashed by a big wave!

She enjoyed that, too, but we returned her to the safety of the sand nonetheless. She played some more with her mother and great-grandparents (finding seaweed, sticks, and a skate egg case) as I took a quick dip in the relatively rough surf.

And then it was back to the house to pack up and prepare to leave. Baby said she'd had quite a lot of fun.

She had a bit less on the ride home, though the experience was smoother than we'd feared it might be. Lots of sleeping, a little crying, three stops, and 8 or so hours after departure, we arrived safe and sound in Providence.