I don't think I have ever worried less about packing. Having spent the last year with a baby, troubleshooting and winging things every day, made me conscious of how little I really need and how fun it can be to improvise.
Cedar learned to walk at the cabin. Oh yes, the last evening. Five wobbly steps which he has now polished into a quick tempo shuffle. But he still crawls mostly.
The week was good, very good. My sister and brother in law and their 3 littles were there nearby as well, just a swim from our dock to theirs. There was rain and sun and loons. Cherries. Indigo falling off the dock. Cedar falling off the dock (all was well). Mosquitos, reading, the smell of the lake weeds, pine needles on the paths, the inevitable bickering before dinner as hunger strikes after a day of sun and northern air and then the comradely bliss of satiation. Meals cooked in the sweet small kitchen presided over by that beautiful unusable cast iron stove. Then showers, cotton flannel sheets for the chilly evenings, stepping quietly so as not to wake Cedar in his alcove, and early to bed with a book.