In other news, Dan and Gareth and I have just returned from a short visit to a long festival. It went really well, despite the last lingering bit of pneumonia. Lots of people helped Dan take care of me, so I didn't lose out on rest. None of us got sunburned, bugbitten, or poison ivied. There was no property damage, no wear and tear--there weren't even any regrettable purchases. We took it easy, hanging out with the friends we only get to see at the Free Spirit Gathering, showing off our baby and catching up on the year's gossip.
I got to find out just how mellow my son's temperament really is. A big thunderstorm rolled through camp. Hours before the first edge of the rain came, we could hear the heat lightning coming. With Gareth buckled into the jogging stroller, I bustled down the big hill to reach the dining hall ahead of that first edge. Barely made it. So there we were on the tiny dining hall porch, huddled up with maybe fifty other people who'd had the same idea, when the storm broke right over us. It was Gareth's first prolonged outdoor chance to see and hear really heavy rain, his first summer thunderstorm, his first crammed-into-a-crowd experience. Lots of babies would have freaked out under those conditions. He knitted his little brows together a moment, clearly considering freaking out, but decided against. Being so close to the rain without actually being in it was fascinating, and he went with fascination instead of fear.