I think the clocks must run slower in Maine. Or perhaps the air is infused with some odorless, tasteless substance that acts as a sedative. All we seem to do once we arrive -- after we've combed the beach for treasures that is -- is sleep.
Jed, especially, finds it difficult to continue to drive the final half hour once we cross over the New Hampshire border. Once we reach our destination he naps every hour on the hour and my eyelids are always at half mast.
And although Annabel isn't napping these days, the Maine drug is having its effect on her, too, with early bedtimes and later morning awakenings.
Silas seems to have inherited the family illness, except that as an infant his job -- outside of eating and pooping -- is to sleep.
So far, he's slept through a marathon trip to the grocery store, a visit with some old friends and even his first walk on the beach. He even finds a way to sleep through his sister's attentions, which are often loud and full of kisses.