My family and I recently spent a few weeks in Devon, and, as is often the case, I could not ignore just how different our lives have become since our son William’s arrival three and a half years ago.  Vacations, for me, used to involve attempting to cram in a visit to as many historic, scenic, or adventurous places possible.  Perhaps because parenting a preschooler comes with its own special—or should that read terrifying—brand of excitement, I have more recently adopted a more relaxed attitude.  Because there is no way to predict what might excite or bore. Before this trip, I never would have picked a trip to a model train museum, but I found myself there, staring in astonishment as he gawked for hours at all the delicate parts.  Without ever attempting to dismantle them.  Nor would I have dreamed of taking my active child to afternoon tea, but somehow that is exactly where we ended up, me wondering all the while who that little person sitting next to me was with the impeccable manners as he sampled little tea cakes and scones. 

Watching him discover the world is a form of excitement all its own.  Sometimes not in a good way.  His love of climbing has always made me nervous, but his adventures reached a whole new level on Haytor Rock.  It took me three times as long as he and my husband, Howard, to shakily drag myself up the exposed, steep hill, yet when I arrived, it was to the scene of Howard literally trying to talk Will down off a cliff.  To get him down, I had to promise to take him to the rock gym when we got home so he could learn to climb safely.  So, Gainesville peeps, you may be seeing a particularly adventurous small boy accompanied by a white-faced mom at Gainesville Rock Gym, because, unfortunately for me, the only requirement is that your child must weigh at least 30 pounds.