Sitting at the dock of the bay (in the boat)

Although I blogged earlier about how it’s my summer resolution to learn how to drive a boat, specifically the powerboat my parents keep at their vacation place in Maine, I think it’s fair to say that starting to learn how to drive a boat is going to be a safer resolution than getting the job done. So far, not much progress, but that’s because of scheduling: we haven’t yet been able to find a time when my father and I could be in Maine at the same time, so there hasn’t been the opportunity for any lessons yet.

All of which is to say that when the kids and I decided to head up to Portland for a couple of days this week, it was with the understanding that much as the kids love the boat, going out on the water would not be part of the agenda. With just the three of us, it simply isn’t an option.

So I was caught off guard after dinner last night when Tim said, “Let’s go out to the boat.” “Yes, let’s go!” Holly chimed in.

Both kids have been here a time or two with my parents but without me, and on those visits they’d discovered a new favorite activity: sitting in the boat. That’s right, just sitting in a docked boat. It turns out that they both like to spend hours playing in the boat while it’s tied up at the dock.

At first I demurred. “It’s getting windy. It’s late. We’ll do it tomorrow,” I said.

But they convinced me. So for an hour or so yesterday, I found myself sitting in the back seat of a boat that never left the dock, just enjoying the ever-so-gentle surf as we bobbed next to the pier and the kids pretended we were going boating.

Not that Tim would say he was pretending anything, of course. At eleven, he considers himself too old for imaginary play. He assured me that he was busying himself with jobs he’s supposed to do whenever he’s in the boat: checking the knots at the tie-ups, confirming that the bumpers were all in place, unsnapping and re-snapping the cover. Generally puttering around seeing that all the pieces of the boat were just as they should be, or at least that’s what it appeared to me that he was doing.

Holly was less restrained. She put on a show for us. “I am the captain of this ship!” she proclaimed, standing at the console. “The cruise is about to leave! First off, let’s have some dance music!” There was no dance music except for the soundtrack in Holly’s head, but she let loose nonetheless. The idea of a Disco Captain is new to me, but according to Holly’s ongoing repartee, the crowd apparently loved it. “Thank you very much!” she yelled. “Everyone sit down now so the cruise can begin!”

Though the ropes held us firmly in place at the dock – and would for quite some time since Tim kept checking and re-checking the knots as he did his nautical rounds -- apparently in Holly’s mind we’d traveled to our first port of call, because soon Disco Captain was standing at the console with another loud announcement. “We’re docking now, so if you need to pee, get off and go that way!” she yelled, pointing to the pier. “Tim, how about you?”

Like any big brother, Tim is disdainful in equal measure of Holly’s imaginary games and any discussion of going pee, so he pointedly ignored her. “Well then, the captain will go!” she called out and marched out of the boat onto the dock.

In a moment she hopped back on, but with a different persona. “I’m your new captain, and I have some orders for you!” she announced. A lot of orders followed. It was the first time I’d played Simon Says at sea. Inches from land, yes, but still at sea. “What? You don’t think I’m a good captain?” she asked her invisible horde of passengers. “You want the old captain back? Fine! We’ll pick her up the next time we dock!”

Sure enough, the next port of call came within seconds. Holly walked off the boat onto the dock, and then re-boarded. “You voted, and I’m back! Your old captain!” she announced.

That drew Tim’s attention briefly away from rubbing down the gunwales with a paper towel. “Would the old captain really refer to herself as the ‘old captain’?” he asked. I conceded that he had a point. It was like ordering a Greek salad at a Greek restaurant, to use an example that my father insists my mother has actually done. (Verification of this story unconfirmed.)

Disco Captain busted a few more moves for us and then, I decided, it was time to disembark for real. The sun was setting, and both captain and maintenance crew needed to get to bed soon. I’d learned something, though. I had no idea sitting in the back of an unmoving boat could be so entertaining. I suppose that’s good news, just in case it takes me longer than I think to learn to operate the new boat. We can always just stay at the pier and pretend. Dance music not necessarily included.