I just came inside from playing a game of catch in the backyard with Pete. Eli's sleeping, so we took the baby monitor out. Rory came too, snatching the ball every time one of us dropped it and making us chase him around the yard to get it back. We played until it started to get dark.

We had beet greens with dinner, sauteed in a little evoo and garlic and lemon juice and tasting exactly like early August. We have fresh strawberries and blueberries in our fridge. We devoured big platters of clams and fries on the weekend.

My legs are covered in mosquito bites from camping on the weekend. I feel like I'm going to scratch my skin off entirely. "These mosquitoes are the worst I've ever seen! Ever!" I said at some point on the weekend. Peter laughed at me. 10 minutes later we overheard an elderly lady at the beach say the same thing. Never in my life have I seen them this bad!

We spent two days watching Eli tear up and down the beach. He started off scared of the little hermit crabs scuttling around under the surface, but after he saw his dad pick a few up, he eagerly hunted for them. "I see BEACH!" he'd shout every time we left and came back to the shore. Everything was cause for celebration: spotting a seagull, finding a pebble, his first taste of a hot dog cooked over a campfire, driving by a field of cows.

Right now, I would like to freeze time and savour this season for just a few more sweet weeks. The summer is flying by. It's been a goodie. Can we just press pause for a little bit?