So long, Crabfest 2011!

Last year we had our first Crabfest, under the light of the silvery moon (my grandma wrote new lyrics to that song for the party, I kid not) and the paw-paw tree.

We tried to get back there this year, but like a heroin addict chasing that first high, we couldn’t quite recapture the magic of that first shipment of steamed Maryland blue crabs, the corn rolled in melting butter and Old Bay Seasoning getting in the cuts and nicks on our hands caused by the crab shells.

This year, we had thunderstorms, an unbelievably bad Notre Dame football game, an ailing dog, and way more beer than we could drink with Uncle Scott in Krgyzystan. The party was totally different, equally enjoyable,  but just not as mystical as that first one.

This one involved a 3-year-old. Every party should involve a 3-year-old. Upon his arrival in the house, he told my mother, whom he calls Um-Mum (long story), to take a deep breath. If you know my mother, and you know how completely crazy she can be when left unattended, you know this is a PERFECT singular piece of advice.

The following conversations all occurred:


Oma (88-year-old great-grandma): L, I see your dimples

L (the 3-year-old): (finger pointing) No, you do not. They are in my private parts.


L: I don’t like it, Mommy, it’s soggy.

Mommy: What does soggy mean? If you want to make an argument, you have to know what the words mean.

L: Daddy, what does soggy mean?

Mommy: No, you have to know what it means?

L: I don’t know what it means

Mommy: Then you can’t not like it because you don’t know what it means.

#3 (while on a walk)

L: I think Daddy’s going to the store to pick up my new cousin.

Me: Your new cousin? Who is your new cousin?

L: His name is Julio.

Me: It is? What does Julio look like?

L: He looks like an elephant.

(five minutes later)

Me: What does Julio look like?

L: Julio looks like a long-necked giraffe.

Me: Is he ferocious?

L: He is ferocious.

The 3-year-old prayed to bless the meal Saturday night, his hands kinda covering his eyes and his voice barely above a whisper with a huge grin on his face.

“Jesus, thanks for crabs. We like them.”


Author: Rebecca

Orthodox Christian. Journalist. SAR K9 handler. All three of those are deeply related.

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