The Nose knows.

Jonathan has appointed himself the Nose Police. Up at the cottage, when AnPa would blow his nose, Jonathan would come running from two rooms away to point at him and say "Nose!" We even trained him to go get a tissue for Mommy or Grandma. It is difficult to blow your nose with dignity when his little face is peering up at you, anxiously awaiting any sounds that might emerge, so he can announce them to the room at large.

On the second leg of our flight home, we shared the two seats together while a middle-aged man had the single seat across the aisle from us. It was a short flight but a miserable one - there was no air conditioning and Jonathan was quite fussy. There was a lot of turbulence and the seatbelt light stayed lit the whole flight. We were desperate to find something to hold his attention. He pointed out the "boats" (life rafts) on the emergency exit card, and dropped the cap of the miniature bottle of water we were given, forcing us to drink it all in one gulp to avoid spillage. Once those delights were exhausted, however, he went back to wailing. All of a sudden, though, he stopped and said "Nose! Nose! NOSE!" really loudly. He lunged forward out of my arms and wound up cantilevered over the aisle, pointing at the man across from us, who had been enjoying a quiet pick.

The rough and the moos.

We've enjoyed some nice times at Rock Point recently. The trip down lasts about forty-five minutes longer than Jonathan's patience. He starts to get very excited as we enter King George county, because there are lots of boats parked in people's yards. We hear a lot of "Doat! Doat!" from the backseat, and when we don't stop to look at them, he starts to fuss. I usually spend the last eleven miles singing one song after another to get him to stop complaining.

Once we're there, though, he's in heaven. Mom and Dad and Liz and Jim have joined us each time, and even though it's late, Jonathan still drinks in the attention for a half hour or so before going to bed. He like to check out all the birds on the coffee table, and Grandma often has a new toy for him. He usually breaks out into a spontaneous little dance to show how happy he is with all eyes on him.

He wakes us up at 6:30 am, standing in his crib and pointing at the door. "Doat?" in a very hopeful voice floats down the hallway. We get him dressed and take him out to look at the water. Then it's time for a quick breakfast. Thankfully, someone else is usually awake by then and is willing to walk the circuit.

The circuit takes place out back. Jonathan goes to check out his reflection in the blue gazing ball, then thumps on the fake rock ("hock") that covers the drain pump. Then it's over to the tree line to look for balls or other discarded toys. Next, he makes his way back to the shed ("house") and the boat trailer. This past weekend Jonathan learned two new words while exploring the trailer - rough and smooth, which comes out "moos." Finally, he picks up a few bits of gravel from the driveway and throws them. He might also pick up a stick from the rotting boards that line the drive.

Then, if he's lucky, it's time for a boat ride! The lifejacket makes him look like a little head sitting on a big orange block, but he tolerates it. We carefully hand him into the boat and he sits very nicely in the chair. He looks around and if we talk to him, he looks up with a big smile. He will point at other boats or birds as we putt-putt out to deep water. Once the engines rev up, though, he's off in a trance. He has managed to stay awake during his most recent daytime rides. He sits in his chair, squinting in the sun and the wind, and drinking in all the sights. Happiness is moos seas.