Babes in life jackets

Nothing is cuter than a kid in a life jacket. The way it rides up on their shoulders and squishes their cheeks. The bright colors and ugly cartoon designs. The way the bright colors fade and mold, which is a sure way to tell a live-aboard kid apart from a weekender kid. The weekender kids always have pretty life jackets. The live-aboard kids have life jackets that look like they were fished out of the dumpster.

My kid wore his life jacket pretty much all the time when he was super little and couldn't swim. He wore it less as he got older, but always when the boat was underway and when the docks were iced over and slippery. When he learned how to ride a bike he would often wear his life jacket up to the stretch of sidewalk overlooking our marina and then he'd put on his helmet and I'd look like the most overprotective weirdo parent ever.

It's funny going through his baby pictures. The life jacket is always there, like a security blanket, or a favorite toy.

In hindsight, it's exactly what it was.

I have no idea what is going on here.

There comes a day when every parent realizes their kid isn't a baby anymore. This was my day. We were anchored for the night in the calm, peaceful waters of World's End. By this point my baby was six-years-old and an excellent swimmer. We were jumping and diving off the side of the boat, enjoying the empty anchorage and having a blast. He decided he wanted to try jumping into the Atlantic without his life jacket. It was time to shed the security blanket, toss the favorite toy aside. He stripped down and grabbed his boogie board. He was free to fly.

And fly he did.