Pennington Day

This morning the boys and I went to the nearby town of Pennington for the annual street fair, Pennington Day. I had arranged to meet my friend Liz and her three-year-old son.

"Where should we meet?" I asked Liz yesterday.

"How about the breastfeeding tree?"

"OK, the breastfeeding tree at 10."

The breastfeeding tree got its nickname at another Pennington Day back in 1993. Liz, who was then living in Massachusetts, had come for a visit and to meet Daniel who was just five weeks old. Liz, Daniel, and I had gone to Pennington Day; when Daniel wanted to nurse, we found a somewhat private place under a large oak tree in a courtyard. While I was breastfeeding Daniel, another nursing mother arrived to feed her baby. Coincidentally, she was someone I knew from a parenting group to which I belonged at the time. Liz, Sonia, and I christened the oak "the breastfeeding tree," and thus it has remained.

It's hard to believe that was seven years ago. And it is even harder to believe how quickly the infant I fed under the breastfeeding tree became the boy who lopes along beside me, so tall and straight.

The weather this morning was perfect street fair weather, being slightly overcast and cool. The main streets of Pennington were blocked off to traffic so that the Pennington Day attendees could walk in the road. We wandered around looking at everything, watching the jugglers, and listening to the musicians. Many local businesses had tables lining the streets. The boys got their faces painted at a booth sponsored by one of the area newspapers. Daniel and Stephen wanted their faces painted like tigers, while Matthew asked to be a clown.

When the kids got hungry, we went back to the breastfeeding tree. Liz and Thomas split a sausage sandwich. I treated my boys to a funnel cake, which we all shared. Funnel cakes originated with the Pennsylvania Dutch, I believe. The are made by pouring a thin batter through a funnel into hot oil, making squiggly shapes. The resulting confection, deliciously crispy, is sprinkled with powdered sugar and served hot.

Not far away from where we were sitting, some pre-teenaged boys were playing with several frisbees. Suddenly a mis-thrown frisbee hit me in the shoulder. I waited for one of the kids to come and apologize but since none of them did, I confiscated the frisbee. Later my three boys and Thomas played with the frisbee while Liz and I talked.

We had to leave a little after noon so that Tab could have the car. He was scheduled to photograph a bat mitzvah today. It was a good time to depart. The place was getting too crowded, and the weather was becoming warmer and more humid.

In the car on the way home, Daniel and Stephen were bickering as usual.

"Stop it, Stephen! Mama, Stephen is blowing bubbles with his mouth!"

"Stephen, don't do that," I said. "It's disgusting."

"Why?" asked Stephen.

"Because! It's your spit!" Daniel snapped.

"It's not spit, it's saliva," answered Stephen.

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