AJ is six and very happy about it. He got up yesterday morning and wanted to check his height against mine, convinced he had done a year's worth of growing in the night. He climbed up on the very tall antique bed that we sleep in when here and snuggled up next to me to read A. A. Milne's Now We Are Six, which I think should be required reading on anyone's sixth birthday.

After giggling through "The Knight Whose Armour Did Not Squeak," we got up for breakfast at the long dining table piled with presents for both birthday boys (My father declined to announce his newly achieved age as AJ did, but he did point out that he is now officially on Medicare) surrounded by balloons. AJ was excited to find doughnut holes -- a rare breakfast treat -- and made sure to try all kinds but jelly ("It's too messy.").

We let the birthday boys call the shots. The day was gorgeous -- sunny, nearly breezeless (a rarity here by the ocean) and about 80 degrees. Perfect. AJ put on his favorite shirt with a giant picture of a goliath beetle on it and a pair of crazy-quilted madras shorts and headed outside to run around. It took us all a while to get going in the morning, but we let him open one present -- a foam frisbee molded into Spongebob's face -- and he went outside to toss it around so that I could get my exercise climbing around the palm trees and under the mammoth azaleas to retrieve it.

We took the birthday boys out to lunch, which proved a not particularly pleasant experience -- it took us over an hour to get our food, despite the fact that most of us were having salads. But AJ was a trouper and when the waitress, who has known AJ since he was about 4 months old, came out with a scoop of vanilla ice cream with a flaming candle in it, all was forgiven. We watched the waves crash on the beach outside the windows as AJ blew out the first candle of the day.

On the way home, the rest of the crew dropped AJ and I at the foot of the beach access near the house. AJ put on his bathing suit and we walked up the path, hunting for alligators and lizards. We passed the pond ringed in irises. He was mesmerized by the alligator topiary, which was looking a little furrier than most alligators, thanks to its spring foliage.

"Are we almost there?" AJ was getting tired.

"Almost. See the boardwalk up there? It looks like a bridge that goes over a hill."

"I see it!"

"That goes to the beach. But when you get to that first bend, you can hear all the ocean. Let's run there and then be quiet and listen."

"Okay. [pause] I can hear it! I hear the ocean!"

We headed up the first leg of the boardwalk and stopped at the top of the rise over the dunes to drink in our first view of the ocean, sparkling in the sun. Then we ran the rest of the way to the beach, startling several little lizards from their slumber on the sunniest part of the boardwalk.

The beaches here are among the most beautiful I've ever seen. They are not as white as the strange snowy beaches of Florida, but nor are they as coarsely brown as those I grew up with in New England. And they are nearly always virtually empty, the polar opposite of the Hamptons beaches with towel-to-towel people and blaring radios.

In the past, AJ has been a little overwhelmed by the beach, by its vastness, by the power and noise of the waves. This year he plunged in. We made sandcastles and dug moats. But mostly we jumped in the water, leapt over waves and ran in the surf. The Atlantic is still pretty cold in March, but the water is shallow around the island, so it isn't bone-chilling like it is farther north. And if you're a boy who hasn't seen the ocean in nearly two years, it is warm enough.

"I'm in the Atlantic Ocean on my birthday!" shouted AJ. "That's so great!"

After the beach, we walked back home. AJ was persuaded to take a rest for a half an hour and then there was cake and presents. AJ received a game and a copy of The New The Way Things Work from us. My mom and dad got him a truck with a helicopter, both of which light up, a Magic Tree House book on the rainforest and its attendant research guide, and a Lego set. My dad also gave him an old camera they were getting rid of and he can hardly wait to use it. He's been on another picture-taking binge. I thought he might be disappointed about the lack of instant gratification of a film camera but instead he likes the idea of the surprise at the end, the waiting for the roll of film to come back from the drugstore. I think that right there may be the difference between six and five.

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